The Madness Underneath
by Hybridlovelies
Summary: Caroline is a psych student working as a sober companion in Chicago, hired by Elijah Mikaelson to assist his brother, Klaus, who is fresh out of rehab. For the next six weeks she'll be with him 24/7 helping him to maintain a sober life. Caroline will soon discover Klaus is no ordinary client. AH/AU, based off of Elementry/Sherlock Holmes. Do not have to be a fan of Holmes to read!
1. Prologue: A Murder in Bohemia

**New Story! Remember that time I said I was gonna take a break? HA! Well I guess I took a little break. **

**So here we have a hybrid (pardon the pun) of two things I love. Klaroline and Sherlock Holmes. Since I'm working on some original stuff, writing this fic has allowed me to double up my research efforts because some of the stuff here I can apply to my more personal projects. **

**First, let it be known, you do NOT have to be a Sherlock Holmes fan to enjoy this fic. This idea was born after I started watching/becoming obsessed with Elementary..but I'm a lover of the BBC series, the American series, the books, the films, etc. So I'll be appropriating a lot into this fic. But there will be a fresh plot. It won't just be a retelling of a mystery we've seen on the show or in the movies.**

**Second, I've never written crime/mystery before. So I'm stretching my legs into parts unknown. Bare with me!**

**Third, there WILL be romance. Come on...it's me. If you've read my stories before, you know how I do. **

**So welcome new readers, hello old! Let's have some fun :)**

***** General Disclaimer: I'm not a psychologist, detective, consulting detective, doctor or super genius. Most of my knowledge come from wikipedia and google and weird things I read online. I'm just a humble fangirl. I do not own TVD or Sherlock Holmes.**

* * *

No one ever knows how he or she will react, staring down the barrel of a gun. It's a thing most people don't ever have to face. They read about it in books or see it in movies. It's an experience removed from them. Most people don't imagine that the last thing they'll hear is a click as someone decides their time is up. The last thing they'll smell is whiff of smoke and fire. The last thing they'll see is the wink of a bullet as it runs toward them like a train.

No. It'll never happen to them. They're safe. Those things happen to other people far away. People they don't know. Sometimes they see a story in the paper; someone murdered because of money, adultery, fear, revenge…their skin crawls and they say "oh how tragic" then continue to sip their morning coffee and nibble at a piece of toast that's just a little burnt. It's one of those things that no one ever imagines happening to them.

Until one day, it does.

"No," the man begged. "Please, you don't have to do this."

The day had started out normal. He awoke at the sound of his alarm, shaved, kissed his wife on the cheek, went to work, had a sandwich for lunch, thought about his weekend, got frustrated with his boss, breathed a sigh of relief when it was time to head home.

"Please."

Before he could utter another word, the trigger was pulled.

The click. The smell. The world went into slow motion and sped up all at once. There was no more time to blink, to think, to say anything else. His life was over. Ending in a place he had never imagined it would cut off.

The silent bullet from the gun flicked through the air and ripped into his chest. The force of the pain knocked him back, sending him tripping over his coffee table, crashing through the glass.

His last thoughts were a mystery, his last words died in his throat, as his eyes glazed over. The last thing he would ever see would be the feet of his killer walking away.

* * *

_**A Murder in Bohemia**_

Caroline awoke with a start. Her back was aching and she could feel wetness, from drool, at the corner of her mouth. As she came to, she looked around and realized she was not in her bed. She wasn't even in her bedroom. In fact, she wasn't in any bedroom. She was in a lecture hall, the eyes of her classmates staring at her with mixed emotions…some amused, some horrified, some expectant. At the front of the room, from her seventh row seat, she also caught the irritated gaze of her professor.

She sat up quickly, wiping at the corner of her mouth.

"Miss Forbes," her professor shook his head with a sigh, "see me after class."

Caroline nodded and the lecture continued, her classmates returning their attention back to the front of the room one by one. Caroline slumped in her seat, knowing her face was beat red. Thanks to her unplanned nap though she couldn't follow what the Professor was talking about. The scribbling on the chalkboard didn't make any sense to her. The class laughed at some joke…a reference that sleeping Caroline had missed out on. Still, she made an effort to take diligent notes, typing furiously into her laptop hoping that maybe her visible effort would earn her back a few likability points with her professor.

Once the class was over, she packed up her things and made her way down the steps to the front of the room, where Professor Shane was waiting for her. The professor wasn't a stern man. He was actually very nice, which made Caroline all that more guilty for falling asleep in class.

Atticus Shane was younger than most of her professors, in his mid-thirties, with a head of unruly black curls. He was handsome in the nerd sort of way that many young academics were-a sort of squint and you can see his inner Brad Pitt sort of thing. Not that Caroline was spending any time fantasizing about the man, but she had overheard a couple girls in her class making comments about his attractiveness level. His eyes held that same amount of tiredness that she noticed in most teachers. A few wrinkles around the corners that gave away the mask of enthusiasm they often wore when class was in session. Those wrinkles didn't do anything to assuage Caroline's guilt over her accidental snooze.

Professor Shane looked up from his lectern, where he had begun to collect his own belongings, and met Caroline's eyes. She stopped, and attempted to give him the most apologetic look she could muster.

"I'm really sorry I—"

But he held up a hand to stop her.

"Miss Forbes I don't care to hear excuses," he said. He turned to the chalkboard and began erasing his notes. Caroline always thought it was weird that he still used the board, unlike other teachers who had embraced PowerPoint and technology. Shane was old fashioned for his age. "I've had you in my class before. I remember you from my Intro course a couple years ago."

"Yeah," Caroline confirmed, "Fall semester before last."

"Brilliant writing," Shane said. "I recall you being one of the best students in my class. You seemed to have a thorough grasp and interest in the subject. I was really hoping I would see you join the department as a major."

"Thank you." She smiled. This was going better than she thought it would.

"I can't say the same for your work in _this_ class however." Just like a roller-coaster, Caroline's good mood plummeted as quickly as it had risen. "You've kept up with assignments and grades, attended lectures, but you seem to just be going through the motions. I don't recognize the same passion that you seemed to have possessed two years ago."

"I'm really sorry about falling asleep," Caroline attempted her apology again. "I've just been up late…I have this new job…"

Again, Shane interrupted her. "Caroline, I can forgive a slip up, but this doesn't seem to be a slip up. It seems to be a symptom of a larger issue."

"I promise," she said, "it's a one time thing."

"You're considering graduate school I assume?" Caroline nodded. In another year she would be finished with her bachelor's degree. It had taken her almost six years just to obtain that. Working full time and going to school full time had been a difficult venture. Not to mention, finding ways to fund her education. Between financial aid and scholarships, she was able to scrape by every semester, but it usually meant only being able to take a couple courses at a time or making up their difference over the summer.

Which was why she was standing in the middle of a lecture hall in June. A new source of funding had allowed her to take this extra course, which would put her that much closer to her degree.

"I recommend that you think long and hard, before you decide to commit any more time to this field of study," Shane said.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just go through the motions when it comes to philosophy or psychology, you need to be active. It's a competitive area, especially when you enter the graduate level of study. It's not meant to wander through aimlessly."

"I know," Caroline said, "I realize this. But I've been studying for six years. I think I know what I'm doing and what I want out of my academic career."

"Can I ask what brought you to this path of study?"

"It interested me."

"Interested you," Shane repeated with a click of his tongue, " '_passion, though a bad regulator can be a powerful spring_,'" He set the eraser back down in the chalkboard tray and walked back to where Caroline was standing by the lectern. "Emerson," he said, explaining his quote. "You should be more excited about what you study. I don't see that excitement from you-that passionate curiosity-if you don't feel that passion then perhaps this isn't the place for you."

Caroline fixed him with a determined gaze. She had heard it before. People saw her blonde hair, blue eyes, and bright smile and assumed she was lost when she was at the library perusing the reference section. Her fellow classmates would look at her and think that she should be with the fashion majors or some other quote-unquote girly major. Men she had dated always assumed that she was a yoga instructor or dancer or inspiring actress. No one guessed that she was a psychology major, with a minor in philosophy.

In was frustrating, but Caroline was used to being underestimated.

It just stung a lot more when someone she halfway admired was doing it.

"Don't doze off in my class again Miss Forbes," Shane said, punctuating his command with a pointed look.

Caroline nodded, taking the tilt of his head and the look in his eye as the end of their discussion and made her way out of the classroom.

It was a hot summer day in the middle of Chicago. Caroline slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she made her way onto the street, messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Attending Williamson University was unlike other college experiences she assumed most people her age had. For one, the University was in the middle of a city, surrounded by tall skyscrapers and busy people. Most students exited their classrooms and walked across a grassy quad and were surrounded by people playing Frisbee and chatting about sorority life. Here, she left her classes and walked out onto the bustling sidewalk, passing businessmen with their expensive coffees, cabs honking in anger at the traffic, and a few bums begging for spare change.

She could hear her cell phone ringing from inside the pouch on her bag's strap and flipped it open to retrieve. A look at the caller ID told her it was her friend, Lexi Branson, calling.

"Good morning," Caroline said, her voice cheery, not reflecting any of the worry that was still plaguing her from her conversation with Professor Shane.

"Afternoon, you mean," Lexi replied. "What are you up to?"

"Just got out of class, headed over to Lincoln Park to meet my new client."

"Oh," Lexi said, "I was gonna see if you wanted to grab lunch. I guess I missed the window."

The window. That was what they called their time in between jobs. It meant the window of time in which they were actually allowed to have their own lives and do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

Caroline would have loved to go join Lexi for lunch, but she couldn't. She was due across town in thirty minutes to meet her new client. Lexi was one of the only people, aside from Caroline's mother, who knew what she did for work. It was difficult to keep up a social life in between her job and her classes. She was also contractually required to keep most of what she did confidential. So telling people that she wouldn't be able to see them for almost six weeks on end at odd times throughout the year made the endeavor of maintaining friendships rather difficult. Lexi was the one person she could usually speak to about it, because she was in a similar line of work.

They were both sober companions.

It had started about two years ago. Waiting tables wasn't making Caroline enough money and she didn't have the time to commit to a temp job or anything else full time. Lexi, a friend from a study group mentioned her work as a sober companion.

"I think you would be great at it Caroline," Lexi had said, "you're kind and compassionate and patient. Plus having a psychology background doesn't hurt. You'll be able to denote behaviors and react to them and help your clients through them."

Caroline had become even more intrigued when Lexi mentioned that she made $700 a day for six weeks of work. She did the mental math and realized that would give her enough to pay her bills and still be able to take classes.

The timing was perfect too. Lexi was able to set her up with her first client, the brother of Lexi's current client at the time. She explained that it was sometimes ineffectual for family members to have the same sober companions, because it could create conflicts of interest.

Caroline had had a few different clients since then, male and female, all with various forms of addictions. Some of them had relapsed, while others had moved on and continued to thrive in their recovery. Lexi had explained to Caroline that it wasn't always a measure of her success of failure if someone relapsed. In the end, a person could only do so much. It was her responsibility to be that buffer between rehab and the real world that most addicts needed.

Caroline hopped on the blue line train, heading north, to meet her new client. She would be living with him for the next six weeks. Sometimes it was odd, living with a complete stranger, especially when it was a man. Caroline had taken the initiative to protect herself. She hadn't had any clients yet who had displayed physical types of aggression toward her, but she knew it was always a possibility. After her first experience as a sober companion, she decided it would be wise to perhaps invest in a small tube of pepper spray to carry around with her, just in case. Fighting wasn't really her thing, so she bypassed the idea of a self-defense course.

These thoughts brought her back around to her new client. He was a heroin addict, with a history of violent behavior and paranoia. His brother, who had hired her via email correspondence, had explained to her that rehab had been part of his sentencing after he nearly beat a man to death with a metal chair.

"My concern is that my brother has no true interest in leading a sober life," he had told her, "I'm hoping that you can help assess this for me while also encouraging him to stay clean."

It was an odd case. Caroline hadn't worked with someone before who didn't actually, on some level, have some desire to beat his or her addiction. She wondered if that was at all true about her client. After an awakening experience of nearly killing someone and a long stint in a rehab facility, certainly something must have sunk into his psyche. At least…she hoped.

Caroline got off the train and headed down the platform, looking at the map she had pulled up on her phone. Chicago was a diverse city, where almost every neighborhood had it's own personality. Sometimes, though that personality didn't make any sense. She found herself in one of Chicago's "hipper" neighborhoods, its denizens skewing younger. Here she found more tattoos and wilder fashions than she did around her lakeside apartment. Vintage shops and record stores were located right next to trendy, clean, fine dining restaurants. Graffiti'ed walls grabbed her attention and the sidewalks were littered with discards fliers for new local bands playing at a nearby basement venue. Yet, around the corner, were quaint neighborhood streets where mothers strolled along with their children and kids played hopscotch on the sidewalk.

She walked for a few blocks, taking a final left turn, until she stopped at the address she had been given.

_221 B White Oak Lane._

Caroline wrapped her hand around the black iron gate and pushed it open, walking toward the front door. The house looked old, standing by itself on the street filled with duplex homes and apartments. The paint on the outside was chipping, a weird blue-green-yellow color. Dead flowers slumped in the flower pots underneath the windows. A tall tree stood in the front yard, casting a large shadow over most of the home. Caroline could see white curtains covering the upstairs windows.

She hopped up the steps of the porch, which stretched across the length of the first floor and stood in front of the door; smoothing down her hair, and straightening the lightweight denim jacket she wore over her flowered dress.

She rung the bell and waited for an answer. No one came to the door. Elijah had told her that his brother would be arriving from the rehab facility, just before the lunch hour. The facilitators would wait for her to arrive, before leaving the two of them to get acquainted. Then Caroline would move a few things in that evening.

Another bell ring and no answer. She checked the time on her phone. She was a bit behind, but perhaps they were running late also? Hopefully that didn't mean that there had been any complications. She decided to call the facility and ask.

"Mr. Mikaelson left our facility yesterday," the attendant on the other line told her.

Caroline shook her head. "What do you mean he left yesterday?"

The attendant explained that he had broken himself out late in the evening and because they were short staffed, they had no way of going after him. That was just great, she thought. Her client had been alone for more than twelve hours. He could be anywhere, doing anything. He could be using. There went her tuition money for that semester.

Just as she was about to give up the door swung open. On the other side was a tall, slim girl with cropped dark hair. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she slid past Caroline.

"Excuse me," Caroline said, "but can you tell me…"

She let her sentence trail off. The girl was already down by the gate and far enough away for Caroline to know that she was being ignored. She turned back to the door, which had been left open. Thinking about it for only a second, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The interior house was large. It was as plain and old looking as the outside, giving off a feeling that Caroline could only think to describe as brown. Once she walked through the small foyer, there was a staircase immediately to her left. Past it, she heard the sound of music coming from what she supposed might be the living room. A few pairs of combat boots lined the corridor wall next to the stairs. A jacket hung over the bannister and a discarded t-shirt rested on the steps. The walls were decorated with a yellowing, faded flower wallpaper. It reminded her of a tea-stained stationary set her grandmother had given her as a teenager. Grandma Forbes had never been very good at picking out gifts.

To her right, was a large doorway, which she stepped through and found herself standing in the living room. It was scattered with different tables, all filled with papers, objects, light bulbs and…was that a skull on top of the fireplace mantle? In front of the mantle, in a weathered green easy chair sat a man, shirtless, with his eyes shut. In his hand was a white paper cup Caroline recognized from being from the coffee shop down the street.

She regarded the man for a moment, studying him. He was long limbed and lean, with just a hint of muscle. It was typical of most drug abusers to have certain gauntness about them, but it was clear that his had begun to disappear after being in rehab and going through detox. He had started to put weight on again, but not necessarily muscle.

Over his chest and arms were a series of tattoos. Birds…a group of swallows spouting forth from an elegant feather and flying across his left side and then there was a panther on his bicep.

He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of black jeans.

Caroline cleared her throat, not wanting to startle him, and decided to break the silence. "Niklaus Mikaelson?"

He didn't respond, but the corner of his lip twitched. Caroline assumed that his lack of denial or surprise at her appearance meant that he was the man she was looking for. "I'm Caroline Forbes. Your brother Elijah hired me to be your sober companion."

"Velkomin kæri minn, vinsamlegast fjarlægja fötin." His eyes remained closed as he spoke.

"Um, what?"

"Ó þú talar ekki íslensku?" He continued. "Hvernig ... ekki átakanlegum."

Undaunted, she straightened her shoulders and stepped closer to him. Music from a record player in the corner continued to play. It wasn't anything Caroline recognized, but it sounded like punk. Niklaus set in the chair, with his eyes closed, taking sips from his cups.

"I"m Caroline Forbes," she said, "Your brother Elijah hired me to be your sober companion. I spoke to your rehab facility this morning they said that you left sometime around midnight, which means you've been on your own for more than twelve hours. I'll need you to take a drug test."

She was digging around in her bag for the small swab kit that she always kept with her. One swipe inside of his mouth and she would know if he had used between then and the time he left rehab. She walked forward to hand him the swab, thinking that he would acquiesce without a fight, but he continued to ignore her with his eyes shut.

"I need you to swab this inside your cheek," she said.

He didn't move.

"If you continue to avoid it I can only assume that you've used."

Niklaus still didn't move. He licked his lips, taking another sip of his coffee, using the cup to hide his smirk. Caroline could tell he was toying with her. The smug turn of his lips said it all. Elijah had warned her that Niklaus would be difficult. She said he was intelligent-like beyond genius level—and he loved to dangle that fact in front of anyone and everyone. Caroline didn't mind that. She was used to everyone feeling like she was dumber than they were.

The record clicked, the song ending, and the needle moving away. Niklaus stood up then, almost knocking into Caroline, and startling her with his sudden movement. She was about to step away but stilled herself, not wanting to show fear. His eyes were still closed as he stood over her and as much as she wanted to move away she remained still and calm. But that didn't mean her heart was beating like a rabbit against her chest.

She could smell faint hints of aftershave on him. His jaw and chin were clean. Caroline imagined it was probably the first time he had been able to shave in months. Because of his particular case, he was not allowed to have any razors in his possession while in rehab.

His eyes opened and met hers. They were the color of the ocean before a storm, dark blues and swirling grays. Lightning striking in the distance, warning you that it was time to get out of the water and seek shelter; the waves become more forceful, trying to drag you into their depths, the wind whipping against your sea-salt soaked body, giving you a slight chill.

"Well," Caroline shifted, brushing her hair off her face, "he opens his eyes."

"Allt betra að sjá þig með."

Choosing to ignore him and his weird speech, she held up the swab for him to take. Instead he brushed past her and went for the record player in the corner. She let out a silent huff.

"Okay fine, if you're going to be difficult…"

Caroline reached over and picked up the cup from the end table. She took the lid off and poked her nose inside of the cup, sniffing its contents.

"Now that we've established that this isn't alcohol…" she set down the cup but kept the lid. In one swift motion she swiped the area where his mouth had touched with the swab and then set it down. Niklaus watched her swab the lid and then snap the swab into the drug test device. A moment later it beeped. She met his gaze and gave him a smile.

"Congratulations," she said, "you're drug free." She put the device back into her messenger bag. "I'm going home to retrieve my things. Then I'll be back. If you aren't here when I return, I'll call the cops. It will be in violation of your parole to run away again. I'm willing to overlook the first offense, but not the second. Don't make me regret it."

She pointed her finger at him, giving him a stern look. Niklaus just watched her with the same impenetrable gaze that he had been giving her since he opened his eyes. When he didn't say anything, Caroline dropped her hand, turned and left.

Niklaus turned his attention back to the record player, his gaze sliding to the view outside the window, seeing Caroline's gold curls bouncing as she pulled on his front gate and left.

* * *

That evening, Caroline settled her things into Niklaus's home. Of course, he made no moves to make her feel welcome or show her around. Caroline took it upon herself to become acquainted with her new temporary home. Her room was upstairs. It consisted of two full sized mattresses piled on top of each other for a bed and one small nightstand and lamp. Under the window there was also a set of dresser drawers—a hulking old wooden thing that was scratched to high hell.

Caroline had brought her own pink comforter from home and a set of sheets. She made her bed and then unpacked the clothes she had also brought with her and hung them in the closet. Thankfully, there were hangers, and they were wooden too which was a surprise. It wasn't the nicest of homes, but she could make it work for the next six weeks. It could have been worse.

Later on she was downstairs, making herself some dinner. The kitchen was fully stocked. Caroline assumed that Elijah was to thank for that. There was plenty of food along with dishes, pots, pans, plates, and everything else one would expect to find in a kitchen. The cabinets were opened, displaying the mismatched mugs and glasses and plates.

Caroline fixed herself a sandwich with ingredients from the fridge and poured herself a mug of soda and sat at the dining table that was haphazardly placed in the area between the living room and the kitchen. In front of her was a book for Professor Shane's class. In her effort to display some of the "passion" Shane was suggesting that she lack, Caroline decided to study extra hard for the next class. He would see during his next lecture. Her hand would fly up so often to give her opinions or argue his points that he would take back everything he said.

She munched her sandwich and read while she chewed. Part of her wanted to take the modest dinner and book up to her room, but the point of companionship was to engage with her client.

Engaging with Niklaus, was proving to be a challenge.

He had been in the living room when she returned from retrieving her belongings, and then he went to his room and shut the door, not making a peep for several hours. At one point, Caroline wondered if he might have jumped out the window, but then she heard footsteps. He was pacing. He was in the room, so she shrugged it off and went about her unpacking.

Midway through an essay about Hobbes and Machiavelli, the bedroom door swung open. Caroline looked up to see Niklaus standing in the doorway, now wearing a grey Henley t-shirt and a smile on his face. It was the type of smile that kids wore when they had outsmarted their parents and found out where their Christmas presents were being hidden.

"Let's go," he said.

She swallowed her bite and opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and headed for the door. Caroline watched him dash toward the door, grabbing a pair of discarded combat boots from the wall by the stairs.

"Go where?" She asked standing up and following him. But he didn't answer.

Caroline had about two seconds to slide on a pair of flats and grab her purse from the place she had hung it on the stairs before Niklaus was out the door and heading toward the gate. She shut and locked the front door and ran after him trying to keep up.

Part of the companionship, the difficult part, was that she had to go everywhere with Niklaus. No matter when, no matter where. This was why she was unable to have much of a social life. She couldn't make plans or dates because she was required to follow her client around on his social and professional engagements. Her commitments during those six weeks would nine times out of ten come in second to his.

It was a quarter past eight as Caroline followed Niklaus down his street and around the corner, to a busier street. He held out his hand and flagged down a cab, opening the door and gesturing for her to get in. When she hesitated he let out a huff. It seemed he had no patience for her stalling.

"Two-two-five, West Chicago Avenue," he said to the driver as they were pulled into traffic.

"Will you tell me where we're going in such a hurry?"

Niklaus cut a glance at her, looking down at her feet and then back up at her head. "Did my brother mention anything about what I do?"

Caroline thought. Elijah had been brief on his description, only giving her need to know facts. "He said you were a detective."

"Consulting detective," he corrected.

"What's consulting detective?"

"Does blood make you squeamish?" He asked, ignoring her question.

Caroline gave him a confused look. "Um, no. I guess not anymore than any other person."

"That would be a yes then," he replied. The cab took a sharp turn at a stop-light, causing her body to shift closer to him.

"Does that have anything to do with where we are going?"

"Yes," he said, looking out the window. He seemed keyed up, giddy even, which was such a change from his passive attitude earlier that morning. Nothing else was said about where they were going or what they were doing and his questions about blood made her a little nervous. But she chose to look on the bright side…at least now he was speaking English.

Fifteen minutes later, Caroline still didn't have any information about where they were going, what they were doing, or what being squeamish around blood had to do with anything. The cab stopped, outside of a high rise downtown, and Niklaus paid the cabbie as Caroline stepped out onto the street.

She looked up, craning her neck to see the sign illuminated above the door.

"The Bohemian," she said reciting the name of the building. The letting was sleek and thin-blocked, but the capital-B was fancy with extra curls curing reaching out and curving around the rest of the name. It was an apartment building; an _expensive_ apartment building judging by its location and shiny appearance. Caroline stared up, guessing that there must have been around twenty or so floors. It was then she noticed the cop cars parked on the side of the street. There were four of them, one that was still flashing its lights. Policemen were making their way in and out of the building's revolving door.

"What are we doing here?" Caroline asked.

"Come along," Niklaus replied, leading her toward the door.

He walked through the lobby of the building, going straight for the elevator. As they waited, Caroline overheard a conversation between the doorman, and a man she realized was a detective.

"No one suspicious entered the building?" The detective was asking.

"No, no." The doorman replied. He was an older man, in his late 50's Caroline assumed, dressed in a black suit. He ran a thoughtful hand through his beard. "A few dinner deliveries passed through, but that's pretty common. But nothing on the twenty-third floor."

"We'll need the names of these deliveries."

Caroline didn't hear the rest of the questions. The elevator dinged and she followed Niklaus inside. He pressed the button marked "23" and Caroline watched the door close, the dotted number lights beginning to increase as they ascended.

"Niklaus I—"

"Please," he interrupted, "call me Klaus."

"Klaus," Caroline said, "what is going on? Are we here because of the police?"

The elevator announced their arrival and the doors slid open. Just down the hall, the police were surrounding a single apartment, and Caroline had a feeling that was where they were going. She followed behind Klaus as he walked toward the commotion.

"I'm here to see Captain Saltzman," Klaus said when one of the cops attempted to stop him from entering the scene.

"Klaus? It's alright Harmon, let him in."

The cop, Harmon, let Klaus and Caroline pass through the door and into the apartment where all the commotion was happening. Klaus approached the man who had granted his access. Caroline assumed that this was Captain Saltzman. He appeared to be around the same age as Klaus, scruffy, with light brown hair that stuck out in every direction, a few strands flopping down into his eyes. He was dressed well enough, in a suit, blue colored shirt, and tie, but the way it all fit made it look like these weren't clothes that made him comfortable. Caroline watched him adjust the knot of his tie.

She looked around the apartment, noticing cushy cream-colored carpet and bright walls. Bright abstract paintings of flowers hung on the walls. There were fresh flowers everywhere, in vases that no doubt came from Crate & Barrel. It was an apartment that anyone would fantasize about. Every perfect thing in its perfect place. With a few exceptions: caution tape was strung around, and little yellow markers were scattered about the room numbering different areas. There was a broken vase in the middle of the floor and she remembered seeing a crushed mirror at the beginning of the hallway.

"What are the observations so far?" Klaus asked the detective as he snapped a pair of latex gloves onto his hands.

"Kyle Jones. Aged forty-two. Found dead with a GSW to the chest. Appears to be a break-in homicide," he replied, "smashed décor, broken mirrors, scattered possessions. Mrs. Jones came home and found her apartment like this, Mr. Jones laying on the floor of their living room. Bled to death on the carpet."

"No one called to report a gunshot?"

"All the surrounding tenants claim they never heard any gunshot. The neighbors say they never even heard a struggle."

"What was stolen?"

"We haven't ascertained that yet," Saltzman said, "Mrs. Jones is too _distraught_ by the death of her husband to catalogue her possessions so far." He seemed to notice Caroline then, lingering behind Klaus. "Who's this?"

Caroline came to attention. Part of the contract with Klaus was confidentiality. She wasn't allowed to reveal the true nature of their relationship, unless he did so himself. Therefore, Klaus was permitted to introduce her to his friends and coworkers however he saw fit. Most clients preferred to call her a friend or colleague.

"Caroline Forbes," Klaus introduced. "My new housekeeper." Caroline fought the urge to roll her eyes. She hoped that wasn't his way of subtly hinting that he expected her to start cleaning up after him. Caroline took the detective's outstretched hand.

"Alaric Saltzman," he introduced.

"That's a mouthful," Caroline replied.

Alaric laughed. "Yeah I have my grandparents to thank for that. You can call me Ric."

While they talked, Klaus was weaving his way around the apartment, studying each corner as other policemen walked about and cataloguing information. A few of them regarded him with annoyed or confused looks, but none of them made any attempt to derail or engage him. Caroline could hear quiet chatter in the living room, a few sniffles punctuating the conversation. She followed behind Klaus and stepped into the living room and that's when she saw the corpse, spread out on the floor.

Her eyes swept over the bloody chest wound, the lifelessness, the foggy-open eyed look of nothingness. The glass table next to him was broken where he had fallen into it and his legs were curved at an odd angle from the fall. Caroline's stomach rolled and she turned around, crashing into Ric in the process.

"That's a dead body," she said into his chest.

"Yes," Ric said, sounding a little confused.

"Holy shit."

She closed her eyes, trying to get the image out of her head. Ric gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder and then moved away.

Seeing blood was one thing. It wasn't the blood that was making her squeamish, it was the fact that she was standing in the middle of a real murder scene, with a real murder victim behind her. All around her there was a real life episode of CSI going on. Even though Caroline was no stranger to the idea of murder and death, seeing it up close was a whole different thing.

"Mrs. Jones," Klaus said, taking a seat in front of the distraught woman on the couch. She was young, red haired, possibly in her late twenties. She was dressed in a black pair of stretch pants and a pink hoodie, her hair up in a bun like she had just come from the gym.

"Andrea," the young widow sniffed.

"Andrea," Klaus said, "where were you earlier tonight between the hours of five and seven."

"Yoga," she told him, "with my friend Jane. We have Yoga every Tuesday night at six. A trainer comes to her apartment."

Klaus's eyes flicked to Ric who nodded. "We questioned Mrs. Jane Smith, who lives down the hall."

Klaus nodded and returned his attention to Mrs. Jones, who was rubbing at her wrist. He noticed a small bruise on the inside of her wrist.

"When did you injure your hand?"

"Earlier," she said, "at yoga."

Without asking, Klaus took her hand and looked at her bruise. He turned her wrist toward the light studying it carefully.

"You should get some ice for it," he instructed gently. Andrea gave him a smile and went toward the kitchen. Klaus waited until she was out of the room to speak.

"This wasn't a break in," he stated to no one in particular.

"We didn't figure," Ric replied, "considering that there is absolutely no damage to the door."

"The way things are broken, it's all methodical," Klaus replied, "destruction in all the right places. It looks like a film set."

"You're thinking the wife is our primary suspect?"

Klaus pursed his lips. "Angry spouse, isn't a large leap considering her wedding ring."

"Wedding ring?" Caroline chimed in. "What do you mean?"

"These pictures," Klaus said walking over toward the wall where the fireplace was located, stepping over Mr. Jones's corpse in the process. "Mrs. Jones has lost a considerable amount of weight since they were taken. Maybe 30 pounds. Enough to shrink her ring size. It was too small for her finger, she kept twisting it around. Why wouldn't she have had them resized? It means she doesn't wear them that often."

"Maybe they just don't go with any of her outfits," Caroline said.

"Not these types of women," Klaus countered, "they enjoy any chance to show off a flashy diamond engagement ring. Captain, what apartment did you say this Mrs. Smith was in?"

"Two doors down on the right, apartment 2304."

Klaus spun away and headed for the door, Caroline behind him. He stopped in the hallway and faced her, just before the reached the door to apartment 2304. "What did you notice that was strange in there?"

"Aside from the murdered corpse laying in the middle of the living room?" Caroline said. "They had terrible taste in decorative pillows."

Klaus smirked. "Mrs. Jones. She was sniffling, but she wasn't crying. She was sitting in a room where her dead husband lay feet away, but she was coherent enough to speak to me. Yet she told the detective that she was too upset to notice if anything was missing."

"You think she was faking it?"

"You're a psychology student," Klaus said, "what are the symptoms of shock?"

Caroline sighed, attempting to dig out facts she had learned in Psych 101. "Dizziness, disorientation, flushing, sweating, trembling…"

"Did you notice any of these symptoms with Mrs. Jones?"

Caroline thought for a moment. "No," she replied finally, "but symptoms can wear off within a few hours."

"While she is still in the presence of her dead husband?"

He had a point. Klaus knocked at the door of The Smiths', apartment 2304. A few moments later, a woman answered, who was dressed similarly to the way Mrs. Jones was dressed, only she was blonde haired instead of red.

"Can I help you?" She asked looking between Klaus and Caroline.

"I'm Niklaus Mikaelson with the Chicago Police Department, this is my associate. We just wanted to ask you a few questions."

Klaus was polite enough when he chose to be, Caroline realized.

"I already answered your questions," she said, "I prefer not to talk about it anymore."

"It will only take a minute," Klaus urged.

"Let them in, Jane."

Mr. Smith appeared behind her, and Jane reluctantly opened the door further, allowing Klaus and Caroline into the apartment. It was a similar set-up to the Jones's but much more pristine. Mr. and Mrs. Smith led them to their living room and offered them both a seat on their white couch.

"Do you guys have any leads yet?" Mr. Smith asked Klaus as they sat.

"It's only been a couple of hours, Mr. Smith—"

"Daniel."

Klaus smiled. "It's only been a couple of hours Daniel. We are still gathering facts."

Caroline realized Klaus was affecting a similar attitude that he had been using with Mrs. Jones. It was calmer, more polite and patient…Not the acerbic Klaus that she had been experiencing all day.

"Well anything we can do to help," Daniel said, "although I'm not sure how helpful we can be. I was at work late, Jane called me after they called the police and I came straight home."

"They?" Klaus asked, his glance cutting to Mrs. Smith.

"Andrea and I did yoga together here and then she went home to get dinner ready. After she found her husband, she ran over here screaming her head off and we called the police."

Klaus stood up then, and began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Caroline watched him from her seat on the couch, as his eyes took in the pictures on their walls, the patterns on the vases over their fireplace, the exact hue of the paint on their wall.

After a few moments, Klaus nodded. "Right," he said, "thank you."

Out in the hallways again, Klaus walked to the corner by the elevators, confirming that up toward the ceiling there was a small black camera watching over the coming and goings of the twenty-third floor residents. He punched the elevator button and the two of them stepped inside.

"If there are security tapes, those tapes should corroborate Mrs. Smith's story," Klaus said as the elevator descended toward the lobby.

"So you think she's lying now too?"

"I think it's best never to take someone at their word," Klaus replied. "Did you notice the way they were responding?"

Caroline thought. "Mrs. Smith was quiet, unfriendly. Mr. Smith seemed helpful though. Nice."

"Nice," Klaus repeated, "too nice. Like someone who is unsure whether or not they've done something wrong."

"So you think he did it?"

Klaus looked at her. "No, that would be too obvious."

"Nothing seems obvious to me," Caroline said.

"Then why are you trying to fit everything into an obvious little box?"

The elevator doors opened and Klaus strode towards the security guard at the desk.

"I need to see the security tapes for the twenty third floor," Klaus replied.

"They would be in the manager's office," the doorman told him, "I just see the ones for the lobby, the street, and the elevator's."

"Then I'll need access to the manager's office."

"Just one moment. Ms. Westin was called in after the police." The doorman picked up a phone and dialed some numbers, informing Ms. Westin that the police needed to ask her some questions. A few moments later he hung up.

"Down that hallway, third door on your right," he pointed.

The door they were heading to opened as they reached it. A woman, wearing a crisp blouse and pencil skirt greeted them. "Hi, I'm Olivia Westin. The manager of The Bohemian."

"I'll need to see security tapes from the twenty third floor," Klaus requested ignoring the woman's outstretched hand.

She pulled her hand back and smiled. "Come into my office," she said, "this is a matter of some delicacy."

* * *

"There are no security tapes for the twenty third floor," Ms. Westin revealed once they were seated.

"But there is a camera by the elevators," Caroline interjected from her seat.

"There are actually no security tapes for floors 22-25. The cameras are there merely for show," Ms. Westin pulled a piece of paper from a file in her desk drawer and passed it to Klaus. "Our residents on those floors signed this waiver. They are quite aware of the special condition."

Caroline leaned toward Klaus looking the form Ms. Westin had handed to him. It was a release form that stated the resident signing was aware and comfortable with the lack of security cameras on their floors. It protected the building from any sort of prosecution in the event that the lack of cameras resulted in any sort of incident.

"But why just those floors?"

"Because they're swingers," Klaus stated. Caroline looked at him, about to let out a laugh. He had to be joking. But then she saw the look in Ms. Westin's eyes and knew he had hit the mark.

"How did you know that?" Caroline asked, stunned at how he came to the conclusion.

"No other explanation for why these particular floors would be roped off so to speak, all of their residents perfectly at ease without the added bit of security. The only time people don't like being watched over is when they have something to hide," Klaus leaned over toward her then. "The bruises on Mrs. Jones's wrists are typical of someone who has been handcuffed and struggled, considering her station in life I would doubt that she has recently been arrested. What's more her submissive attitude, eyes cast down, reacting to the slightest hints of an order. I suggested that she put some ice on her bruise and she immediately stood, without question and went into the kitchen."

"Typical submissive behavior," Caroline interjected, earning a surprised look from Klaus. "I took a sexuality seminar a couple years ago. So her husband was a dom? How does that make them swingers?"

"Mr. Jones was nurturing a similar bruise on his own wrist, but his was covered by his watch. I only caught a glimpse of it when he reached out his hand to invite us inside. Identical bruising would suggest that they had the same dominant partner."

Caroline's brow furrowed. "Who?"

* * *

Back in the Jones's apartment, the police were finally wrapping up their work. Klaus was in the corner, speaking to Ric about something. Caroline lingered near the foyer, pacing a circle over the carpeted floor. At that moment, the paramedics came by, with Mr. Jones's body on a stretcher. She shuddered, backing away to get as far as possible from the body. Her eyes caught the dead man's hands, and the skin of his wrists peeking through the edge of his collared shirt. No bruises, she thought.

But that made sense. If Mr. Jones was Mrs. Jones's dom, he wouldn't have bruises. Dom's were sometimes known to venture out and experience what it was like to be a submissive, but most of them didn't make a habit out of it. Caroline had learned that in her seminar. Also, women were just as likely to be dominants as men were. In fact, men in power positions were often excellent candidates to be sub. It was the irony of the personality type.

Caroline made her way to the living room, where Ms. Jones sat. She felt bad for the woman who had lost her husband in such a cruel way, but then something Klaus had mentioned to her before stood out. The way she seemed to be reacting to everything. It wasn't typical of a person in shock, which she should be. Caroline didn't even know the man, but just being on the crime scene set her nerves off.

"What did your husband do?"

Ms. Jones smiled. "He was an alderman."

Man in power, that could make him a sub or a dom.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Caroline offered.

"Thank you."

Caroline saw her straighten a picture on the mantle. She recognized Mrs. Smith in the picture, her arm around Andrea.

"How long have you two known each other?"

"We met when we moved into the building." Caroline knew that she meant because they were all swingers. "Jane is amazing. She's one of the strongest people I've ever met. She's been through so much."

"What do you mean?" Caroline replied, "If you don't mind me asking."

"She had a hard time growing up," Andrea explained, "her father was abusive, an alcoholic, she spent some time in social services because of it. I can't imagine growing up like that. But now she's such a positive person, always helping with charities and shelters. I admire her for taking her pain and turning it into something positive."

Caroline smiled. She glanced over at Klaus, who was finishing up his conversation with Ric. She crossed over to him.

"Jane Smith is the dom," Caroline said, keeping her voice low.

Klaus's eyes flicked up. "Pardon me?"

"I was just talking to Andrea. The way she talks about her friend, the dreamy look in her eye, it's not the way someone talks about a friend it's almost…worshipful. And you said both she and Mr. Jones have matching bruises. Coincidence?"

Klaus grinned. "I don't believe in coincidences."

* * *

Two hours later, the murder was solved. As it turned out, Jane Smith _was_ a dom, both to her husband and Andrea Jones. The relationship had started between Jane and Andrea after the two couples had come together at one of the building's semi-annual swinger parties. There were rules though, about repeating partners, so Jane and Andrea were keeping their affair a secret. When Kyle Jones discovered his wife was cheating on him, he threatened to divorce her and without a pre-nup, she would be left out in the cold.

Terrified, Jane and Andrea formulated a plan to set up Mr. Jones's murder and frame Daniel Smith for it. Afterwards, the two of them would flee the country-with their money-in case anything was discovered about the real murder. Unfortunately, for the two of them, it was solved long before they had a chance to run.

"Glad to have you back," Alaric had said to Klaus, shaking his hand before they headed home.

Klaus and Caroline arrived back at the apartment, just as the sun was peeking over the sky. Caroline yawned. "I guess it was lucky that you figured out the whole sex scandal thing about the building. Otherwise, the wrong person would have gone to jail and Thelma and Louise would be halfway to Mexico."

"It wasn't luck," Klaus replied, "it's called deductive reasoning."

"Well, it seems like a good skill to have," Caroline said, "I'm impressed."

Klaus took off his boots and threw them back to their place by the stairs as Caroline set her purse down on the dining table.

"You did it earlier," Klaus replied, "you just didn't realize. Your deduction that Ms. Smith was Ms. Jones's dom. That was clever."

"It was a guess."

"Based on facts."

"Like I said, a lucky guess." Caroline walked to the stairs, slipping out of her shoes, and placing them on the shoe rack by the door. "I'm going to sleep. If I don't I'll never wake up before noon."

But as Caroline climbed into bed, she realized she couldn't fall asleep. She was too keyed up. Then she realized something. It was a hypothesis she had about Klaus, based on the facts she knew about him already and what she had learned that night.

Wrapping her robe around her pajamas, she went back downstairs, once again finding Klaus in his easy chair listening to music on the record player.

"You didn't break out of rehab," she said to him.

Klaus opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Yes I did."

"No, I mean before now," Caroline said, "you could have done it at any time, yet you didn't."

"Well it was part of the deal my brother's lawyers made for me."

"The deal was for four months, you stayed for six." Caroline took a few steps closer to him. "You act like you don't care, but you _do_ want to be sober. You want this to work."

"Well now that you've psychoanalyzed me, I'm sure you feel much better being able to fit me into a nice little box."

"It's not psychoanalysis," Caroline replied, "it's deductive reasoning. Based on facts."

Klaus smirked at the way she threw his words back at him, standing up and walking toward her. "Well then, perhaps you'll allow me to do a little deductive reasoning about you Miss Forbes. Based on _facts _only of course." Caroline flicked her eyebrows up, challenging him to get on with whatever it was he was about to judge about her. She had heard it all before.

"You received basic information about me but my dear elder brother took the care to provide me with some information about you." He stood over her now, his stare meeting her's. "You come from a small town in the Virginia. You're an undergrad psychology student with minor in philosophy… But you've been studying for six years which means you're not wealthy enough to take the class load of a typical undergrad. Your choice of double majors are interesting…psychology and philosophy, two academically challenging fields."

"Why? Because I'm just some ditzy blonde?"

" No, because neither are typically fields in which you find a former Miss Mystic Falls, cheerleading captain, social chair, and volunteer for the Mystic Falls beautification committee."

Caroline's forehead wrinkled. "How do you know all that?"

She had provided Elijah with information about her education background and previous employment, along with references, as he requested. But she didn't give him any personal information, nor did he request it.

"Your gait, the exact sway of your hips, the almost floating quality to it suggest former beauty queen. The placement of your hands on your hips when you stand, balled into a fist instead of palm flat against your torso, that's a classic cheerleader's stance. It's not habitual for most people. Your level of confidence and the way you speak to other people suggests you are accustomed to leaderships positions. Naturally all these qualities would add up to the likeness of you being cheerleading captain and social chair of your high school, perhaps even vice president of student council. Not president of course because we have to be humble somewhere. Please stop me if I'm wrong about any of this."

Caroline was rattled. She shifted her shoulders, now hyper aware of how she was standing, what she was doing, even what her eyes might be revealing. The worst part was he wasn't wrong...about any of it.

Klaus noticed her discomfort, smiling at the small victory of seeing her squirm under his keen eye, and he continued.

"Of course not everything is deducible from mere observation. Upon further research I discovered your Facebook, and found it odd that someone who was once so social has less than fifty friends on a popular social media website and her last activity was more than ten months ago. So I have to ask myself, what happened to this bright shining beacon of light that caused her to run away from her home, turn her back on her friends, and pursue a lifestyle that seems to be the complete antithesis to what she had been molding for herself all along?"

The end of his speech was met by a hard look from Caroline. Her mouth set into a firm frown. Klaus smirked at her, seeing his victory. "You're an intelligent woman, Caroline Forbes, but I won't fit into one of your pretty little boxes. I can't be categorized and filed away like the rest of the world."

"Neither can I," Caroline shot back.

"Well, aren't we a pair," Klaus stepped around her and headed towards his room, "Goodnight, Caroline."

* * *

**1) Klaus is speaking Icelandic for those of you who want to type it into google translate. I wanted to use Aramaic, but it's a language written in symbols, so it wouldn't quite work on the page. I thought Icelandic would be interesting enough for him to show off. And also sound unusual to Caroline's American ear. But he's says:**

_-"Welcome my dear, please remove your clothes"  
-"Oh you do not speak Icelandic?" He continued. "How ... not shocking. "  
-"All the better to see you with."_

**2) Yes I know it's unlikely a murder would be solved within a few hours (or maybe Klaus is just that good). But I'm taking liberties the same way TV does. This was basically a prologue to introduce you all to the characters and the situation. The next update will be the introduction of the crime plot that will be the arc of this story.**

**3)Please comment! Let me know if you're excited or "meh" at this point. First chapters are always boring I suppose.**

**Shout out to my beta team, Kady (Klausykins) and Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction). You guys help turn my _aslkajdlksjdlkas_ into articulate words :)**

**Thanks for reading. I hope you guys stick with me for this one!**

**Follow me on tumblr at Hybridlovelies**


	2. A New Mystery

**Holy crap! I never realized there were so many Sherlock/Elementary fans out there in the TVD crowd. Yay! Thanks so much for all of your responses and excitement over the prologue. It was very encouraging.**

**So now here is the first chapter of the story. Setting up the major case that will be on going throughout the fic. There will be one large murder case to solve instead of a bunch of smaller ones.**

**Again, I feel like I should mention that I'm not a detective, lawyer, doctor, psychologist. So facts may be inaccurate. **

**Also, I'm not sure if this is a Trigger Warning, but something someone said in a review made me think I should mention it: in this fic there will be mentions of hard drug use. I apologize if that's upsetting to anyone, just realized that perhaps it needs to be mentioned.**

**Okay, enjoy the chapter! Points to you if you can spot my Sherlock reference :)**

* * *

A figure darted around in the room, covered in black fabric stretched across their bones like a second skin. Black gloves covered lethal hands, black shoes supported heavy feet , the black spandex of the dark uniform extended up and covered a head of hair underneath. Over their face, was a mask, porcelain white, like a china doll with teardrop blue eyes, rose red lips, and a kiss of pink upon the cheeks.

It was pitch dark in the warehouse. The scurrying of rats echoed against the walls; their sharp toes scratching across the cracked concrete. In the distance was the humming sound of the interstate. A few late night rigs making their way across the country, passing by the city without a second thought.

Plastic curtains hung all around the building, ripped and shredded from whether and disuse. In the corner was a group of discarded beer cans and bottles, left by a group of squatters or dumb teenagers weeks ago. No one had been in the building for a long time.

It smelled of dust and ash and chalk. Oldness and dilapidation crept forth and invaded the nostrils. On the broken walls were random graffiti markings, faded to dull reds and greens and yellows. Nonsense words and symbols.

A match flicked to life and the smell of sulfur kissed the musty air. Flame met wick and an orange glow illuminated the dark room. The figure stood over a work table, pondering the tools on display. A chip brush, a set of badger hair brushes, a box cutter, a hacksaw, hammer, nails, a wire clay cutter, and a set of sculpting knives. The masked figured looked over these things, fingers brushing along each one, before selecting one of the hooked knives and turning toward his companion, a man seated in the center of the room.

A man gagged and tied to a chair.

A man who watched in fear as the figure came toward him, masked face cocked in his direction, and the sinister knife held up like a beacon of death.

* * *

She stretched out her limbs, letting a long grunt rumble in her chest, her palm rubbing at her tired face. Caroline wished she could spend the rest of the day sleeping. It had been a long night investigating at The Bohemian, not to mention the fact that it was a little hard to sleep after seeing a dead body-but being a sober companion was pretty much a 24/7 gig. She couldn't leave Klaus unsupervised for too long. At half past noon she got up and shuffled through her wardrobe, picking out her outfit for the day.

Being in rehab meant routine and structure. Patients were woken up everyday at a certain time, fed at a certain, required to go to support groups and therapy sessions at a certain time. Structure was important to the recovery process. It was something that Klaus would be accustomed to from his time at Sunlight Acres. It was part of Caroline's job to help a client apply some of that structure into their new lives when there wasn't anyone around holding them to that responsibility.

Last night had been…unique to say that least. Being on a murder scene until the break of dawn was the opposite of the normality and routine that Klaus would need to continue beating his addiction.

She had been frustrated with him before she had gone to bed and his little speech about his impressions of her based on his observations and internet stalking. It made her apprehensive about what else he could discover about her past from doing a bit of Googling. But part of the companionship would be getting him to open up and working through latent issues. Sometimes doing that required her to divulge a bit of uncomfortable information about herself. It wasn't normal for her to get too personal with clients, but sometimes it helped in small doses. As she thought about it all, she twisted the gold band she wore around her thumb, steeling herself.

_It's a new day_, she told herself, paraphrasing Scarlett O'Hara.

Once she was dressed, with hair and teeth brushed, she headed downstairs with a fresh spring in her step to see if Klaus was awake. She found him in the living room, the TV set to the local news.

"The story has already been reported," Klaus told her as she made her way to the kitchen, "Murder in Bohemia they keep calling it. How dramatic."

Klaus stood in front of the TV, ignoring the easy chair, and standing with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the reporters on screen. Caroline prepared a pot of coffee while listening to the news report in the background. They were listing the facts of the case, while keeping some of the more salacious details out of the story-no doubt due to the fact that some very powerful men and women lived in The Bohemian and wouldn't take kindly to their secret swinger community being flashed all over the news.

The case would go to trial, but Mrs. Smith would be going to prison for killing her friend/lover's husband. The widowed Mrs. Jones would be facing a similar fate, even though she hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, she was just as guilty.

"I was thinking," Caroline said joining him in the living room with her cup. "We could go out to a late lunch. Get to know one another better. I know a great café around the corner."

Klaus passed her a sideways glance, flipping through the channels on the television with the remote control under his arm.

"I thought the point of you was to do what I want to do." He sounded like a petulant child.

"The _point_ of me," Caroline said, "is to help you maintain your sober lifestyle outside of rehab and give you the tools to continue with your recovery."

"And you think lunches in cafes where we talk about our feelings will make me _not_ want to use heroin again?"

Caroline rolled her eyes at his comment. "We could invite your girlfriend if you wanted."

His arms dropped to his sides. "Girlfriend?"

"The tall, leggy woman that was leaving when I got here yesterday?" Caroline was holding her hand above her head, indicating the height difference between herself and Klaus's female friend.

"Not my girlfriend, love." He walked past her and into the kitchen, grabbing himself a mug from the open cabinet shelves. "I procured her services from the internet."

"Procured," Caroline rolled the word around in her mouth. "You mean she was a hooker?"

"I'm not allow many vices anymore," Klaus said with a wolfish grin. "Caffeine and sex are the only two that haven't been crossed off the list."

He lifted his mug to her, taking a sip. Caroline turned, missing the face he made at the taste, and him dumping the contents of the mug out into the sink.

"Fine," she said, "what do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah," Caroline said, "you know, three letter word, starts with F, usually makes you smile or laugh?"

"Can't think of many things that meet those requirements."

Caroline remained undaunted. "Then what do you enjoy?"

"My work."

"Solving crimes?" Klaus nodded. "Well what do you do when there aren't always crimes to solve? Like during down time?"

Klaus was looking at her like she spouted two heads. Maybe he didn't know how to have fun without the drugs. She realized that she didn't know much about his case. Even though she had spent most of her last night of freedom reading through the dossier she was provided on him, she didn't know much about him as a person.

The dossier told her facts. Klaus was thirty-two years old, from U.K. He had an older brother and a younger sister, who was deceased. His parents were also deceased. Klaus was admitted to a rehab facility as part of a settlement deal coordinated by his brother and lawyers, after he was arrested for engaging in a bar fight while high. He had an addiction to heroin, as well as a history of other drug use. He had worked for a while with Scotland Yard while still living in the U.K . and then moved to Chicago sometime two years ago when Elijah lost touch with him. The next thing he had heard of Klaus was when lawyers were calling him about Klaus's arrest and trial.

"I'm still unsure what my brother got up to in those two years, or what made him choose Chicago," Elijah had told Caroline via email, "but it ended with him almost killing a man and himself with his addiction."

Klaus had been forced to go to rehab, and in addition to the therapy sessions that came standard with stays in rehab, he was also required to go to anger management. Twenty-four hours into their companionship, Caroline didn't see much anger. She didn't see much emotion out of him at all. There was the smugness, and the irritation he seemed to harbor towards her. Pathological narcissist would be her initial diagnosis. Or super asshole, in layman's terms. But asshole men was something she was accustomed to dealing with in her professional life. She could think of one client in particular that had broken her in for all the other assholes to come. Klaus didn't seem to have an ounce of empathy, politeness, or social awareness about him. Almost on a sociopathic level.

Then there was the way he acted at the murder scene. When questioning the witnesses/suspects he was sympathetic and rational. When speaking to Captain Saltzman, he was formal and concise. He understood emotions and knew how to use them, which was another tick in the sociopath box. She knew from her studies that sociopaths often knew how to use emotions to their advantages, they just didn't experience them or understand them the way most people did.

"Well then," Caroline said, "we'll go to lunch. It's a nice day out."

"I'd rather not," Klaus said with finality. "Look sweetheart, the truth is I don't need you. If you want to go home and do whatever for the next six weeks, you're free. I won't tell my brother. You can continue to drain his bank account with the exorbitant fee you no doubt charge. But the fact is, your presence in my life is wholly unnecessary." He brushed past her and headed into the living room again, taking a seat at the large computer and desk that was across from the fireplace. Caroline crossed over and stood in the archway between the two large rooms.

"That's fine," she said, "we could go to support group instead. I know of one just a few blocks away, starting in twenty minutes." Klaus gave her a wry look and she shrugged. "I'm staying Klaus. Because you do need someone, whether you want to admit it or not, and it might as well be me. Having a support system is a good thing. Everyone needs one. And you can be as stubborn as you want, but just know that so can I. You aren't the first client of mine to hurl insults at me or tell me to go screw myself and you won't be the last. So it's support group or lunch, I'll give you ten minutes to decide and then we're leaving."

With that, Caroline turned with her coffee and jogged back up the stairs to finish getting ready for the day.

* * *

It was a nice day outside in the city-not too hot as long as you stayed in the shade-a clear blue sky and a bright yellow sun. A light breeze blew through Caroline's curls as she smoothed her dress under her and took her seat at the outdoor café table. Klaus sat across from her, black sunglasses covering his eyes.

She opened her menu and scanned the page, trying to decide what she wanted to eat while Klaus remained still, his arms crossed over his chest. He was acting like a bratty kid who was being made to skip the school field trip because he had to go to the doctor for a checkup. The waitress came back a few moments later.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?"

Caroline opened her mouth. But Klaus cut her off. "She'll have a iced tea, and then the arugula salad, without chicken, and extra dressing."

The waitress looked between the two of them. Caroline gave her a polite smile and nod. "Iced tea and the salad," she said handing the menu to the girl, who then looked over at Klaus.

"And you?"

Without looking at her Klaus replied. "Coffee. Black."

Thoroughly confused, the waitress scribbled their orders on her notepad and then turned away.

"So either you're a good guesser or it's that whole deductive thing again?"

"Well you're from the South, it's an obvious guess that you enjoy iced tea, however Midwestern restaurants don't normally carry sweet tea like southern restaurants do. You have a nice body, good tone, the kind that comes from a healthy diet and exercise so you ordering a salad wasn't exactly a leap."

Caroline was trying not to blush over the part where he had said she had a 'nice body'. "It could have been any salad though."

"You're eyes stopped on the front menu page the longest, listing the specials of the day, one of which is the arugula salad. Once you opened your menu you scanned everything very quickly, as if you had already decided."

"No wonder the police keep you around," she replied with a slight smile.

They lapsed into silence then. The waitress came back with the iced tea and coffee and Klaus requested a newspaper from her. She looked at him like she wanted to deny the request—it wasn't part of her job—but she seemed to think better of it and brought him one anyways. He set it down on the table and began flipping through the pages, without removing his glasses.

Caroline stirred a few packets of sweetener into her tea and took a sip. "So you said last night, you looked me up. I'm guessing that means you read the stories about my dad."

"I didn't have to look it up," Klaus said, "I already knew."

"How?"

"That ring you keep messing with on your finger," he said without looking up, "It's a man's wedding band. A bit too large for your hand. You wear it on your thumb because it's your largest figure but it's still loose because you haven't had it resized yet. The style and cut of the ring is one popular in the 1980s, which led me to assume it was your father's. The fact that you wear it at all would suggest that he died, not that your parents were simply divorced. It would be unusual to wear the ring of an estranged parent," he paused, clearing his throat, "He must have passed recently."

She decided to get straight to the point, curious to know what he knew and hoping to make that connection with him that would enable him to open up a bit to her.

"Six years ago actually. William Forbes, loving father, ex-husband murdered on his way home from work one night when he stopped at a gas station. Leaves behind a daughter, step-daughter, and partner, Stephen Forbes."

She said reciting it like an article about a stranger she read in a newspaper. Caroline hated people knowing about her dead dad and that he was murdered. Beat to death in a gas station parking lot. The images of what it may have looked like had haunted Caroline for months afterwards. She never told anyone about her father, because she didn't like the way people reacted to it.

"It's not something I share with people," Caroline said. She was trying to open up to him. The process of talking was tit for tat sometimes.

"Pathetic," Klaus said. For a second Caroline thought he was talking about her, but then he smacked the paper with the back of his hand. "Too much showmanship. They'll have this solved in less than a week."

"What?" Caroline asked.

Klaus flatted the paper out on the table so Caroline could read the headline upside down.

"Oh, The Artist," Caroline said, referring to the story on the page about a serial killer who had been terrorizing Chicago.

Klaus scoffed. "Leaves the bodies in the shape of famous paintings. Mona Lisa, The Birth of Venus, The Creation of Adam…interesting, but I doubt a killer showing off this much can escape the police for more than a week. Too many bodies, too many details."

"Actually," Caroline said, "they've been chasing him for almost three months. The first victim was found in April."

Caroline couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses, but she could have sworn they lit up at that moment. His entire posture changed. His shoulders straightened, the scowl lifted, the annoyed creases on his forehead melted away. Klaus shot up from his chair and dashed off. Caroline stammered, pulling out some cash and throwing it on the table before running after him.

"What about lunch?" She said catching up.

"Food will have to wait," Klaus said, "Christmas just came early."

* * *

Klaus had called Captain Saltzman as soon as he and Caroline had found a cab. The detective agreed to meet with him at the station downtown. If he wasn't feeling so excited, he might have held it against Alaric for holding out on him the night before. A serial killer. A large-scale serial killer who had managed to evade the police for three months despite the rather pompous murders. Although, the police _were_ idiots. Klaus had first hand knowledge of this, on more than one occasion. Still, it could be something. If Caroline wanted to know what he considered fun, she was about to be in for a treat.

They hopped out of the cab and went up the stairs of the building that housed the Chicago Police Department. Alaric was waiting for them in one of the small meeting rooms. On the large table in the center, he had pulled out a few file boxes and had them ready for Klaus to examine.

"Honestly until last night I didn't know if you were gonna be up to all this stuff again," Alaric said, rubbing a tired hand behind his back.

"Then I suppose I can forgive you."

Alaric gave him a brief history of the cases so far, and then left him to peruse the files at his leisure. Caroline had taken a seat at one of the tables and watched as Klaus read through the manila files, detailing each individual kill of the artist. The first reason as to why the police had yet to catch the killer soon became clear to him. The killer targeted nobodies. Homeless people and bums off the street, not high profile figures or people with families who would miss them.

He studied the pictures, longing to be on the scene. That was where the real details could be found. Klaus always prided himself on seeing the things that others missed. Of making connections that no one else could out of the tiniest scrap of evidence. It was difficult to see things properly through second hand accounts and photos. He missed out on using all of his senses: smell, touch, taste, sound…but it wasn't as if the handicap put him at a severe disadvantage. It only made the game that much more challenging.

Thirty minutes into his reading, he heard the sound of Caroline's stomach growling across the table. His eyes flicked up, and he remembered that he had pulled her from her lunch earlier. Klaus knew what she had been trying to do, but he wasn't easily manipulated. He gave her full marks for her stubbornness though. Klaus realized she was more clever than she appeared to be, especially after that stunt she pulled with the coffee cup and the drug test upon their meeting.

"I'm sure there are refreshments within the station, or a café nearby where you can get some food," Klaus suggested. "I'll be fine on my own for a half hour or so. It's not as if I can shoot up in the middle of a police station."

"I'm fine," Caroline said waving him off, "can I help with anything?"

Klaus looked up at her, his lip turning up slightly. She wanted to 'help' him. He was about to throw out another minor insult when he changed his mind. "Here," he said pulling out another file, "these will no doubt take care of your appetite."

Caroline accepted the folder he passed to her and opened it up. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, looking at the graphic crime scene photos. "You weren't kidding."

Caroline looked up in time to catch the smug look on his face. She knew what he was doing. He was purposefully trying to upset her. Well, she wasn't going to let a little blood and gore turn her away from her mission to help him. With a gulp she started going through the photos trying her best to pretend that they weren't real just so she could get through them.

She looked up at Klaus, who seemed rapt in what he was doing. His eyes held a disconcerting amount of mirth at looking over the photos of murder victims and crime scenes, studying the notes made by detectives and coroners and other consultants.

"So how did you get into all this?" Caroline asked, reaching for another file. "I've watched a lot of CSI and I've never heard of a consulting detective."

"I worked a few cases with Scotland Yard to pass the time," Klaus said, "I don't get paid for what I do."

"But you still do it."

Klaus gave her a meaningful glance. "If you're suggesting that I do this because I value honor and justice, you can throw those notions right out of your pretty little head." His eyes narrowed. "I might be on the side of the angels, but don't for a second think that I am one of them."

_Dramatic much_, Caroline thought as she turned her attention back to the files. Images of her father's case flashed through her mind. She hadn't seen the files, but her mother had, since she worked for the police. Was this what he looked like when they found him? Battered and bruised and unrecognizable. It must have been. The funeral had been closed casket. Caroline hadn't even gotten the chance to look at her dad one final time. Soon the bloodied victims transformed into someone much more familiar to her.

"You know what," she said slapping the file shut. "I think I will go grab a sandwich after all. Do you want anything?"

Klaus shook his head and Caroline left him alone. She promised herself that she would only be gone ten minutes. Maybe Klaus couldn't shoot up in the middle of a police station, but that didn't mean he couldn't give her the slip. She walked across the street to a sandwich shop she had seen on the way in. As she carried her food back to the police station, she pulled out a phone and dialed information. A new idea had just come to mind.

"Hi Chicago, Illinois for Sunlight Acres please," Caroline cradled the phone between her neck and shoulder and took a seat on the steps of the station to eat her sandwich. The crime scene photos hadn't put her off food, but she didn't want to have to chew and look at them at the same time. The call connected and she swallowed her bite of food. "Hi, yes my name is Caroline Forbes. I was hoping to speak to Dr. William Tanner. It's about one of his patients."

* * *

It turned out that Dr. William Tanner was an incredibly busy man and she was lucky that he had carved out time to see her. Name-dropping Klaus had helped though. He agreed to meet with Caroline the next day to discuss him. Tanner had been Klaus's psychiatrist while he was staying at Sunlight Acres. She figured that if anyone had insight into the man, the doctor he spent hours in therapy with would.

"I can't tell you anything," Dr. Tanner said to her from his seat behind a rather fancy and large wooden desk.

"Dr. Tanner I assure you, I'm Klaus's sober companion, this wouldn't strictly breach any confidentiality stipulations," Caroline assured him.

"No, Miss Forbes you mistake my meaning," Tanner said, "when I say I can't tell you anything about Niklaus Mikaelson, it's because there is nothing for me to tell. Niklaus never spoke to me during any of those sessions."

Caroline squinted in confusion. "But he saw you three times a week, an hour per session for his entire stay here."

"Yes," Tanner nodded, "and in that time nothing would open him up. I tried it all, even hypnotherapy, and he didn't utter a single word the entire time."

"What about group sessions? Or other patients?"

"He went to group sessions, but he was just as silent in those. And no one ever saw him speak to another patient."

Caroline didn't understand. "So then what did he do with his time here?"

"The nurses often saw him reading, sometimes writing in a composition book. I tried to ask him what he wrote about, but he wouldn't say."

"What did he read?"

"Non-fiction mostly. Scientific journals. He'd ask for newspapers but we were worried those things might be triggers for him," Tanner said. "I'm sorry I can't be more help to you Miss Forbes."

Caroline nodded. "Well thank you for your time," she said as he walked her to the door.

As she walked out she noticed one of the nurses hanging around, waving her over. "I heard you asking about Nik."

The woman was old, Caroline guessed that she had probably been a nurse during World War II. But she seemed sweet. "Yeah, I'm a friend," Caroline said, "you know him?"

"Are you Rebekah?"

Caroline shook her head. "No, who's Rebekah?"

The woman walked alongside her as they talked. "When he was in detox, he used to call out for a Rebekah. When he was feeling better, I used to ask him about her, cause I had a sister Rebekah. So I told him about my sister."

"Did you find out who she was?"

"No he never said a word to me about her," the woman said, "but I could tell he didn't mind an old lady rambling. So I would just talk on to him and he would sit and write in his book. I looked at that book one day, while he was in session with Dr. Tanner. He had drawn a picture of her. I knew it was her cause her name was written next to the drawing. He was a good drawer. I don't know how come he didn't draw more, or paint. I bet he could be a nice painter too." Caroline could see what she meant about the rambling part. "You know, now that I have a better look at you, you don't look much like his drawing of Rebekah."

Caroline thanked the sweet old nurse and got into her cab to head back into the city. Maybe the visit to Sunlight Acres hadn't been a total bust. She had walked away from the facility with a name. It was a clue. A small one, but something to go off of that could maybe shine more light on the mystery of Klaus. Now she needed to figure out who was Rebekah.

* * *

"Good," Klaus said as Caroline walked through the door, "you're back."

"Glad to know you missed me," she replied slipping out of her shoes and heading for the living room. She pulled her drug test kit out of her purse. It would be necessary to drug test Klaus anytime he was left alone while she was staying with him.

"Actually I'm on to something and it often helps if I have someone to talk to while I'm sorting through a theory."

Caroline smiled and walked toward him. "Well I don't know how much help I can be—"

"No," Klaus said, "you won't. No need to speak, I just need you to listen." Caroline frowned. She should have seen that coming. "Now I—"

She cut him off and jabbed the cotton swab into his open mouth, feeling a bit of satisfaction at his surprised look. "I'm sorry," she said pulling away, "please continue."

Behind her, across the unlit fireplace, Klaus had set up a board. There were pictures from the case files spread about, along with notes, articles and bits of string connecting certain pieces of paper to the others. Klaus stood in front of the board, his hand underneath his chin.

"So far," Klaus began, "we know that the killer has performed four murders, within the span of three months. He or she seems to target the homeless-at random- never striking in the same area twice. But the city it only so big. The police will start to crack down, the mayor won't like the negative attention." Klaus grabbed one of the papers from the board and stared at it, his mouth turned down. "If I could be at one of the scenes I could get a better sense of how the killer works. I can't do much with second hand recounts from amateurs. Best I can hope for is for some first hand experience."

"Seems a little morbid to hope for another murder," Caroline interjected, standing next to him. She tilted her head as he spoke, trying to make sense of the connections he was making on the board. It looked like gibberish to her.

"We have four works of art that the killer has paid homage to," he continued gesture at each photo, "The Birth of Venus, Pieta, the Mona Lisa, and The Creation of Adam."

"All Renaissance paintings," Caroline interjected.

"I told you, you don't have to speak," Klaus said. But he was still impressed with her connection. "But yes, Renaissance."

Just then the kit beeped, letting Caroline know that Klaus had remained clean during her absence. Although this didn't surprise her. Not so much because she had faith in his commitment to be sober, but because-from what she could tell—he was smart enough to find a way to get a fix even if she was around.

"It seems to ostentatious. Too showy," Klaus mused rubbing at the scruff on his chin. "I'm missing something large."

"What's this?" Caroline asked pointing to a slip of paper with a weird symbol on it. It was a pencil sketch of something that looked like a star or an asterisk but with weird pitchfork shapes on each end.

"A symbol found on all the bodies," Klaus replied, "the killer's calling card I suppose."

"No," Caroline's brow furrowed, "I've seen this before." The symbol was familiar to her, she just couldn't remember why or where she had seen it, but it was brushing against her thoughts, poking at her with the its little forked ends. She thought back to the places she had been recently…class, the library, Shane's lectern, movie with Lexi last week, the train stop, the Bohemian, cab with Klaus.

"School," Caroline snapped her fingers. "There's a stencil on the door of the hallway where my class is."

A few moments later Caroline and Klaus were on the train, making their way to the south loop to Caroline's college. As soon as she had said she recognized the symbol, Klaus insisted on going to her school and seeing it first hand. When they got there, a janitor in blue coveralls was scrubbing at the spot on the door.

"Stop," Klaus ordered in a voice loud enough to draw attention from the rest of the students in the hallway. Caroline flashed a pacifying look towards them, hoping they would just continue about their business. The janitor looked up, startled, as Klaus pushed him aside and examined the stencil. It was blurred now, because of the janitor's cleaning efforts, but he could see it matched the symbol found on the murder victims.

"Damn art kids needing to graffiti everything like dogs marking their territory," the janitor grumbled.

"What do you mean?" Caroline asked.

"I've been scraping this one off of every hall door all semester," the man complained, "every time I get one off, another one appears. I've done this hall twice already." He held up two smudged fingers, emphasizing his annoyance.

Klaus looked at Caroline who asked the man. "What other halls?"

Soon she was leading him around to the other hallways, examining the doors for the symbols. They found three more…all in different colored inks.

"They're crudely done," Klaus said, "but they match. The janitor might have been right."

"About...?"

"Dogs," Klaus replied, "marking their territory."

* * *

That evening, Klaus and Caroline sat outside the hallway of her classroom, waiting to see if the vandal came back. They each sipped at a coffee, attempting to appear nonchalant while leaning up against one of the bike racks outside the building. Night classes were in session, so they looked like a couple of students, standing outside having a coffee break. Well…maybe Caroline did. Klaus was obviously too old to be a student.

"So have you spoken to Elijah?" Caroline asked him. They had been standing outside for over an hour now.

"No," was Klaus's short answer.

"No emails? Phone calls? Nothing?"

Klaus sighed. "No, Caroline. My brother and I do not have the best relationship. Which is why there is an entire ocean between the two of us."

"Well he got you, me," Caroline shrugged, "and paid for rehab. It can't be all bad."

"You're right," Klaus said, "I must be making the animosity up in my head. Perhaps that's why I became addicted to heroin. Glad that's sorted, now can we go back to watching the doors silently."

Caroline gave him a look. "Stop. Stop acting like I'm trying to psychoanalyze you all of the time. I'm not. But, part of recovery is working through issues and if you have issues with your brother then you need to face them."

"I don't need to face my issue with Elijah," Klaus said, his eyes still flicking around the street. "We've found a way to co-exist without being at each others throats. I say that's successful."

"Being on different continents is not coexisting," Caroline retorted. "You wouldn't talk to your therapist in rehab so—"

Klaus cut her off with a quick turn of his head, his attention on her now. "How do you know about…" She bit her lip and Klaus gave her a humorless smirk. "You went to Sunlight Acres. To pry."

"It's not prying," Caroline protested. "You gave me no choice. You won't tell me anything about yourself. You're completely closed up. You have to be open with me Klaus if this is going to work. If you want to be sober and beat addiction you have to be willing to connect with people."

"I don't need people," Klaus said. He turned away from her, throwing his coffee down into the trash bin with a bit more force than necessary. "So this is what this is? Six weeks of you meddling into my life? Is that how this is going to work?"

"No I—"

Klaus's head whipped to the side and Caroline cut off her protest as she saw what he was looking at. Someone stopped at the door, a guy in ripped jeans with a backwards cap on top of his head. His body was covering whatever he was doing, but his head lifted every so often to peak at the security guard inside at the lobby desk.

The two of them stood there watching him for a few moments before the guy finished what he was doing and took off. Klaus bolted to the door, and Caroline followed. There, just above the door handle, was the star symbol. They had their dog.

* * *

**1) I might be on the side of the angels, but don't for a second think that I am one of them" -belongs to BBC Sherlock. I can't take credit. It's such a great line though and perfect for Klaus's character in this fic.**

**2) The mark is based off the Hunter's mark on TVD, in case you are wondering.**

**3) Thank you super beta team Kady (klausykins) and Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction) for your hard and encouraging work!**

**4) I apologize if Klaus's dialogue seems a little OOC when discussing case stuff. It's a challenge keeping him sounding like Klaus in this role. I'm sure you guys will let me know what you think :)**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	3. The Hound of Baskerville

**So I'm totally stoked by the number of your who have said this fic makes you want to start watching BBC Sherlock and/or Elementary. BOTH fantastic shows! You may not like one or the other, or you may-like me-like them both! **

**I thank you for all the reviews! To show all you dear readers my gratitude, I'm going to do something I haven't done in a LONG time. I'm going to challenge myself to respond to EVERY review I get on this chapter. Of course, I can't respond to the anons, but just know I love you all!**

**Enjoy!**

**And thank you to the BEST DAMN BETA TEAM IN THE TVD FANDOM: Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction) and Kady (Klausykins). If you aren't reading their stuff...go do it!**

* * *

Klaus waited a full ten seconds before darting after their little graffiti artist. As he trailed behind him, he noted that the boy's posture didn't scream serial killer to him, but he also knew underestimating someone could only result in trouble. Caroline was at his heels, her shorter legs working double time to keep up with his longer, quicker strides.

The boy was walking away in a hurry. Glancing over his shoulder every so often at the people who would pass him by on the street. The orange street lamps kept his face hidden in the shadow of his ball cap. Klaus hoped that he would continue walking to a less populated street or cut down an alley so he could have a chance to question him.

"Should we call the police?" Caroline asked in a hushed tone. His answer was to continue walking after their suspect.

Klaus's methods of questioning suspects and witnesses weren't always smiled upon by people like Captain Saltzman, who worked strictly within the letter of the law, so he preferred to do things on his own for the most part when he worked cases. Alaric was a smart man and didn't ask too many questions. Above all the captain valued justice and Klaus often provided a means to that end.

Caroline's heart was speeding. She was out of breath from trying to keep up with Klaus but, he began to slow though as the graffiti boy slowed down to stop at a traffic signal. No cars were seen in either direction. She wanted to laugh at the fact that the guy was a vandal and a potential murderer yet he was still choosing to obey traffic signals.

They were about ten feet away from him, when she saw the bill of the ball cap turn in their direction. She held back a yelp as Klaus grabbed her, spinning her around and up against the wall of a building next to them. His hands pressed up against the brick on either side of her head as his body leaned into hers. His head ducked down, bringing their faces close together; so close that she could smell the warm hint of espresso from his earlier coffee. Encased in his arms, it was the closest she had been to him since they met.

"Just a moment," he whispered to her.

Caroline realized what he was doing. He was blocking them from view, so the boy wouldn't realize they were following him. If he happened to glance at the two of them at that moment, they would just appear to be another couple, enjoying a kiss outside of a restaurant. The thought of kissing Klaus caused her to unconsciously look at his lips, her eyes lingering over them a second too long and she saw them press together in a grin. Caroline looked up to see a rakish twinkle in his eye. With a scoff, she pushed him back, just in time to see the signal change.

"Are you finished manhandling me now?"

"Don't get excited, love," Klaus teased as the signal changed. "Come on."

They continued down the street after the boy. Caroline shook off the weird, dizzy feeling from being flung against the wall and continued to follow. A few moments later, Klaus got his wish when the boy ducked into an alleyway. He sped up after him, no longer concerned with being inconspicuous. Klaus cut around the corner and took off running, in effort to cut him off. The gamble worked and he popped up right in front of the boy, stopping him with an evil grin.

"No point in running," Klaus said.

Before he could move, Klaus grabbed him and hurled him up against the alley wall. He hit the red bricks with a loud grunt. The ball cap flew from his head, revealing a shock of blonde hair. Klaus held him by the throat, working the boy's disorientation to his advantage.

"What the hell?" he heard Caroline exclaim behind him.

"No worries," Klaus said, "just wanted to have a little chat. As long as you cooperate, there will be no more need for violence. Now tell me about that symbol you just painted on the door. The star."

Klaus released him so he could talk, confident that he wouldn't try to run. He looked college aged, Caroline guessed, maybe a year or two younger than herself.

"The tag? Are you campus security?" He passed a look between Klaus and Caroline.

"Yes the tag. Where did you find it?"

"It's my signature. I came up with it awhile ago. I put it on all my work."

"And across school campuses?"

"It's part of a piece I'm doing…I'm generating hype."

Klaus pursed his lips. "You're telling me that you came up with that symbol?"

The boy nodded. "It's an original."

"Well then I imagine that we should probably call the police, they'll want to bring you in for questioning."

His eyes widened. "Over some graffiti?"

"No of course not," Klaus said, "but they'll definitely be interested in you as a possible murder suspect."

The guy's face went white. "What? Murder?"

"That symbol," Caroline interjected, "the one you _claim_ you created, has been found on the bodies of a bunch of murder victims over the last few months."

"I haven't murdered anyone," the boy appealed to Caroline. "Look alright. I didn't make it up. I took it from this girl I hooked up with at a party awhile back. She had it in her dorm on a corkboard. I thought it was cool so I took it."

"Does this former conquest have a name?" Klaus asked.

"We didn't really bother with last names, or a lotta talkin," the boy smirked knowingly at Klaus, who didn't seem to share amusement in the joke. At the lack of response, he quickly cleared his throat and continued. "I can tell you where she lives though. Her name is Hayley and she's over in Baskerville Hall on Van Buren."

* * *

Caroline and Klaus walked through the front door of Klaus's flat. After he questioned the graffiti guy, Klaus had let him go, and they grabbed a cab back to his side of town.

"I don't understand why you don't just tell the captain and let him go question this Hayley girl," Caroline said. "Isn't it kind of dangerous to be running after people who might be serial killers?"

"You ran with me love," Klaus replied, walking into the living room. "Now we just need to figure out a way to get into the dorms."

"Well, after watching you throw someone against a wall like a rag doll, I'm surprised you have any qualms about breaking into a college dorm," Caroline said.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it for a moment there."

Caroline frowned. "I wasn't talking about me."

The next day Caroline had class again. She had made it a point to try and go to bed early so she didn't end up falling asleep. Klaus was supposed to stay in his house while she was gone at class. He was pouring over case files again, as well as perusing the Internet for more information about the killer. Caroline also guessed that he was secretly hoping for another body to turn up.

Caroline had planned to be more active in Shane's class that day, but her mind kept wandering to the case. She had been casually looking at Klaus's board while she sipped her coffee that morning and was wondering about the possible connections. Maybe it was something about the paintings? A few times during the lecture, she found her fingers wandering over her laptop, typing the names of the paintings into a search engine and attempting to learn what she could about each of them.

Her brain couldn't make the connections though. It didn't seem to work the way that Klaus's did, pulling conclusions out of thin air.

The next thing she knew, everyone was getting up and beginning to file out of the lecture hall. So much for paying attention and being active. Shane was busy talking to one of her classmates, so she wasn't sure whether he had caught her not paying attention yet again. She packed up her laptop and notebook and slid them into her messenger bag.

"Boring, right?"

"Huh?" Caroline looked to the row behind her. There was a guy with dark, spikey hair grinning at her. He was wearing a blue, polo t-shirt over a pair of khaki cut off shorts.

"The lecture," he replied, "sorry. I looked down a couple times and saw you looking at stuff on your computer."

"Okay…that's not intrusive or creepy," Caroline said shouldering her bag.

"Guilty," he said with a shrug and a million dollar grin. "Tyler Lockwood."

"Caroline Forbes," she said taking his outstretched hand.

Tyler was cute, in a very Abercrombie and Fitch sort of way. He looked like exactly the sort of guy she always dated. His broad shoulders stretched against the fabric of his t-shirt and his eyes sparkled with charm and that hint of cockiness that was normally held by privileged rich guys. Judging by the brand of his clothes and the Ray-Ban aviators on top of his head, Caroline guessed that he definitely fell into the privileged rich guy status.

"Are you an art history major?" He asked, walking with her to the door and out to the hallway. "I just ask cause I saw your searches."

"No," Caroline said, "psychology."

"Oh. So I guess you didn't just think the lecture was boring…"

"You?"

"Illustration," Tyler said, "I wanna write my own comics. My advisor suggested I take a psych course to expand my views and help with my writing." Caroline was surprised. Nothing about Tyler made him seem like a geeky comic book guy. "I could show you some of my stuff…if you wanna grab a coffee?"

Caroline looked at the time on her phone and then back up at Tyler who was smiling at her hopefully. Shane had let them out twenty minutes early, but she knew she needed to get back to Klaus. Just because Caroline had extra time didn't mean she could go wasting it. Still, Tyler _was_ super cute and he was flirting with her, even if the way he went about it was a little creepy. It had been a long time since she had gotten any boy attention.

"Okay," Caroline said, "but I have somewhere to be in twenty minutes, so just a quick one."

Tyler took her to one of the local shops across the street and bought her a vanilla latte and blueberry scone. When he walked back up to the counter to retrieve their drinks, Caroline quickly applied some lip-gloss and fluffed her hair.

They sat at one of the window tables and chatted. Tyler showed her some of his sketches, which looked quite good to her untrained eye. He told her about his high school days, growing up in a small town in Illinois, and his dashed hopes of a football scholarship to Ohio State after a knee injury took him out of athletics for good.

"Probably the best thing that happened to me," Tyler said, "I was a dick in high school. The silver lining of it all was that I got into drawing, made other friends, I think I'm happier now than I was back then." Caroline smiled. Tyler seemed like a genuine nice guy. He was funny and interesting and she couldn't get over that smile and those eyes. "Well I've rambled enough I'm sure, what about you Caroline?"

She opened her mouth to speak, when she noticed the time. Her stolen twenty minutes were up. "I have to go," Caroline said with an apologetic smile, "but I'll see you in class next week?"

Tyler stood up with her. "Oh yeah you've got a thing," he said. "Well maybe we could meet up sooner? Some friends are having a party tonight. Over in Baskerville Hall."

Caroline's head snapped up. "Did you say Baskerville Hall?"

"Yeah," he said pulling an orange flier out of his bag and passing it to her. She took and read the information. It said the time and place of the party, advertising free beer and jello shots to the first fifty guests. "They always block off like three whole floors and throw these insane parties. Not sure if you're a party girl, but they are pretty wild."

Caroline wasn't really a party girl, she had left those days behind in high school, but there was no way she was saying no to this.

* * *

"Look at this!"

Klaus was at the dining table, tinkering with a bunch of locks scattered around. Some knew, some looking like they came straight from the middle ages. Caroline beamed with pride as she slapped a hideous orange flier onto the table, interrupting him. Klaus spared a glance before returning his attention to the lock in his hand.

"An invitation to a college party?"

"At Baskerville Hall," she said sitting into the chair across from him, "this is how to get in. Maybe that Hayley girl will be at the party."

Klaus picked up the flier, giving a second look. "Where did you get this?"

"This guy Tyler, in my class, he gave it to me."

Klaus's gave Caroline a once over, a knowing smile on his lips. "Well that explains the lip gloss. You're flirting with some college boy while I sit here alone, with nothing to do but dream about finding a fix. Any longer and you may have lost me."

Caroline rolled her eyes, getting up from the table and heading for the fridge to grab a water bottle. "Please, you're fine. You have plenty of murders and case files to go over and keep your mind occupied for an extra twenty minutes," she took a sip of water. "What are you doing right now anyways?"

"Organizing my locks," Klaus replied setting the lock down and standing up to look over his arrangement. "By country of origin this time. It helps me think."

She still felt a little guilty about leaving him unsupervised. "Do you think you'll be okay though tonight with me gone again? I promise it won't be long. Just in and out, long enough to find out who Hayley is and what she knows about the symbol."

Klaus threw his head back and laughed out loud. Caroline cocked her head at him. "Oh," he said, his laughter subsiding. "You were serious when you suggested going to a party alone to question a suspect."

"I can do it."

"Did I miss the part on your resume that said you had police training love?"

"Did I miss the part on _yours_?" Caroline challenged. "I'm a psych student. I know how to talk to people and ask them questions to get them talking."

Klaus raised his eyebrows. "Because you've done so well with me on that count."

"You don't count," Caroline scoffed.

"That hurts."

"You know what I mean," she replied, ignoring his feigned pouting. "Look you can't go to this party. There will be alcohol. Drugs. Girls. Too much temptation."

"I don't believe women are off limits the last I checked," Klaus said. "You worry too much, Caroline. I'll be busy with work, concentrating on collecting information. All will be fine."

Caroline twisted her mouth in consideration for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

"Fine," she said pointing a finger at him, "but if you so much as look at a Solo cup of beer we are out of there."

"Yes ma'am," he muttered, tipping back in his chair. "Of course I wouldn't actually call cheap grade frat boy weed a drug…it barely has the effects of a cigarette."

"Klaus!"

* * *

A few hours after sunset, Caroline came downstairs in a purple party dress and matching heels. She had changed her outfit six times before settling on her current dress, still worrying that she might be overdressed for a college party. It seemed weird that she was six years into college yet had never attended a single party. Caroline wasn't much of a drinker, since she found it easier to be a sober companion if she abided by the same rules of abstinence her clients did. It wasn't a requirement of the job; it was just how she chose to work. The only time she really had any alcohol was the sporadic glass of wine now and then during dinners with Lexi or on special occasions.

Klaus was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing a casual vest and pants over a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. At his neck was the usual array of beads and necklaces. His eyes scanned her outfit, hair, and makeup.

"Dressed to impress I see," Klaus said.

Caroline rolled her eyes as she double-checked her purse to make sure she had everything she needed for the evening. She was starting to get used to his constant assessment of her every move, word, and clothing choice. "Doesn't hurt to look good."

His eyes roamed over her legs again, enjoying the way the heels accentuated the shape of her calves. "Indeed," Klaus said, "I'm sure Taylor will appreciate it."

"Tyler," she corrected, "and we'll see."

Klaus opened the door for her and they headed out to the street to hail a cab.

Baskerville Hall was located in the loop, near her school. It wasn't officially a dorm, but for all intents and purposes that was what was. The building was affiliated with the city colleges and it was mostly students who lived there. That must have been why, Caroline guessed, they could get away with big parties without neighbor complaints.

They walked through the glass revolving door and into the lobby, signing their names to the guest list. The security guard checked their IDs and let them through. They headed into the elevators with the other partygoers. The doors slid open at the eleventh floor and they were greeted by a group of laughing girls.

Music blasted down the hall and a large crowd had already gathered. People stood against the walls with red plastic cups in hand sipping and laughing and bobbing their heads to the beat. A group of giggling girls darted from room to room, stumbling on their high heels.

"Welcome," a blonde said to them as they stepped off, "This is the beer floor, the kegs are in 1104, there's beer pong around the corner in the lounge. Twelve has the bar with all the liquor and on thirteen we have the glow floor, with dancing, jello shots, the usual. And please respect the residents; don't go hooking up in other people's beds unless invited. Have fun!"

With a shared look, they stepped into the party. The smell of beer hanging in the air brought Caroline back to her high school days of getting drunk at the falls with her boyfriend and friends, tailgating at games and sneaking sips from a flask, bonfires with s'mores and a bottle of tequila snuck out from a parental liquor collection. Innocent fun. This party…it was something else. It was like the parties seen in movies or on TV, where everyone was running around wild and trashed.

"Everything alright?" Klaus asked, with a hand on her back.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You look more frightened at this than you did at the crime scene."

Klaus was right; she was being ridiculous, there was no reason to be nervous. She used to be the life of the party; she should be able to handle it. But them being there wasn't really about being at the party or her enjoyment of it, it was about looking out for Klaus, while he came to do what he needed to.

"So how do we find Hayley?"

"All good things come to those who wait," Klaus replied.

Caroline's eyebrow quirked up. "You really believe that?"

"No, but soon everyone will be drunk enough that I can start asking around for her and they will think nothing of it."

Caroline shook her head and laughed.

"Caroline!" She heard her name over the music and loud din of conversation and turned to see Tyler walking toward her. He greeted her with a smile. "You came."

"Yeah," she said. The charming smile slid from Tyler's face as he looked over at Klaus standing next to her. "Is this your brother?"

Caroline wanted to laugh at the hopeful, yet cautious note of his question. She hadn't even thought about what being there with Klaus might look like to Tyler. For a split second she thought about going along with the brother story, but the English accent would be a dead giveaway that they were not related.

"Tyler, this is Klaus. Klaus, Tyler," Caroline said by way of introducing them. "He's…my butler."

Klaus pressed his lips together in a smirk, while Tyler attempted to correct his confused expression. "Butler?" The two of them shook hands; Tyler eyeing Klaus carefully, but seeming less worried than he had before. "Um well, good to meet you. Can I get you guys some drinks?"

Caroline opened her mouth to respond by Klaus jumped in. "Thanks mate, but I think I'll go upstairs. I'm intrigued by this 'glow floor' whatever it is."

"Uh yeah," Tyler said, "it's pretty cool."

Klaus gave Caroline a smile and threaded his way through the hall to the stairwell door. Caroline looked after him, wondering if letting him out of her sight was a good idea. But Klaus had promised that he would focus on work. Maybe he was just being kind as well, and letting her have some time with Tyler.

She followed Tyler down the hall and into one of the apartments. It was a large layout. Directly inside was the living room with the kitchen toward the back. She could see four bedroom doors branching off, a few people hanging out in each of the rooms. In the middle of the living room were six metal kegs, set in tubs of ice. Tyler headed toward the guy handing out plastic cups.

"Actually," she said touching his arm, "is there water?"

Tyler gave her a confused look but shrugged. "Sure, this way."

He led her over to the kitchen, where there was less people and opened the fridge. Tyler grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to her. She accepted it with a smile.

"I'm not really a big drinker," she said in explanation.

"That's fine," Tyler reassured her, "I'm just glad we get to hang out again. Although…I didn't expect you to bring a date."

Caroline had to smile and the insecurity. It was cute. "Not my date. Trust me."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, good," Tyler said with a smile.

* * *

Klaus made a break away from Caroline, having no interest in watching the mating rituals of twenty-somethings. It only took him four seconds to decide exactly what type of man…or boy rather…that this Tyler was. Klaus was altogether sure Tyler wasn't deserving of Caroline's attention. But that was for her to deduce. He had learned long ago from his sister not to delve into her romantic affairs when he didn't approve.

"_Nik, just because you don't believe in love doesn't mean the rest of us have to die miserable and alone."_

Then again, not trusting his instincts in that situation hadn't ended very well.

But Caroline wasn't his sister or even his friend. She was more or less an employee. There was no reason to care about her or her social life. He shook the thoughts away and continued up the stairs, passing a couple making out against the wall.

Klaus wasn't concerned with relationships the way most people were. Normal people went out to bars and social activities always searching for that special someone. They went on awkward first dates, suffering through the interview process of getting to know someone. They shared secrets and feelings and sometimes it ended badly and sometimes it ended with a house, two children, and a dog. But he also knew love had an end point. It was finite, just like everything else in the world. People could wake up one day and change their minds. Love wasn't something that could be measured or predicted, so he wanted nothing to do with it.

Sex, on the other hand, he understood. Sex he enjoyed. There was a formula to it, a goal. It was human and functional and necessary to living a healthy life. And it could be a nice distraction every now and again.

He grasped the door handle that would lead him to the thirteenth floor. As he pulled it open, a girl slipped through, sliding against him, her breasts brushing against his chest. He followed her with his head and admired the red-lipped, come-hither stare she gave him.

Klaus resisted the temptation however, maintaining his focus and purpose, as he had told Caroline he would. He turned toward the door and walked through onto the thirteenth floor.

This was the 'glow floor'.

Techno music pulsed like a heartbeat, as bodies writhed in time, twisting around in a sweating, alcohol-induced trance. Black lights shined down from the ceilings, casting purple shadows in every direction. The walls of the floor glowed with neon paint and the partiers were decked out in glow-in-the-dark necklaces and braces.

Trouble was afoot. Klaus felt like he could smell it. In fact he actually could smell it. Caroline was right with her concerns. It was difficult being in this place. Certain temptations he could quell, but others…they still had a hold over him. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his mouth, calming his urges. There was nothing to be found on this floor. It was too dark; there were too many people. He would go back downstairs. A better idea came to him…

* * *

"So Mystic Falls, Virginia? That's a long way from home," Tyler said.

They had left the apartment with the kegs and found a quieter place to hang out. Tyler said it belonged to another friend of his. There were half a dozen or so other people sitting around, sipping drinks and chatting. It looked like couples mostly, at least to Caroline. She noticed the way all of them seemed to be paired off—boy, girl, boy, girl—and the body language. There were probably those people who still went out to parties because they felt like they should to keep up appearances, but would much rather be curled up at home together. She guessed that every person in the room would be gone within the next thirty minutes.

Then she stopped, shaking her head, and clearing her mind of the obsessive observations. Damn! She was already picking up this habit of Klaus's. Next thing she knew she would be wearing beaded necklaces and obsessing over stab wounds and the size and shape caused by different knives.

"You okay?" Tyler asked.

Caroline gave him a smile. "Yeah sorry," she said. What had Tyler just been asking her before that? Maybe she should ask him something? Or maybe she should just nod?

"Sorry just asking boring first date stuff."

They had settled next to a high top table near the apartment's open kitchen. Caroline turned and slipped onto on of the stools. "This is a date?"

"Ouch," Tyler laughed. "Well if you don't think so I'd like a chance to make it up to you. A real date, not a party. Dinner maybe? "

"Hmmm," Caroline hummed in consideration. "That could be a possibility."

"Hey yo Tyler!"

Caroline turned around to see another guy around their age approaching them. He had dark hair, a similar style to Tyler's, but with a bit of scruff around his jaw and a nice smile. Tyler greeted him with one of those typical high-five handshake things guys usually did, giving him a slap on the back.

"Hey Dean, what up man?"

"Just got here," Dean answered, " who's this lovely lady?"

"Dean, Caroline, Caroline, Dean" Tyler said. In return, Dean gave her a smile and a head nod, then returned his attention to Tyler.

"Have you seen Hayley around?" Dean asked, lowering his voice a bit. Caroline's interest piqued. She wondered if it could possibly be…

"I don't think she wants to talk to you man."

"Come on bro, can't you put in a good word for me?"

Tyler gave him an uncomfortable smile and Caroline decided to jump in.

"Who's Hayley?" She asked, earning an unsure look from Dean.

"An old friend from back home," Tyler said.

"I'm just trying to get my boy to help me out," Dean said to Caroline, slinging an arm around Tyler.

"Well it doesn't help much when you completely diss her by bringing some other girl to a party," Tyler said, "I can only do so much. Hayley doesn't take that kind of crap."

"She lives in this building right?" Caroline asked. "Is she here?"

"She's probably upstairs. She lives on fourteen. And no I haven't seen her yet tonight," the last was directed at Dean, "you know how she is, she'll walk in at the last minute."

Fourteen, Caroline thought. That narrowed things down. There were only so many apartments on each floor. It was time to find Klaus and go look for Hayley. She felt a little proud, and excited, finding the information they were looking for. Plus, it was time to check on him anyways and make sure he hadn't had a slip ups.

"I should find my friend," Caroline said, "just to check in."

She excused herself from Tyler and Dean and made her way through the crowd, in search of Klaus.

* * *

"Excuse me, I'm having a bit of trouble and thought you could help me."

Klaus slumped over the security desk, looking rumpled, his eyes blinking and unfocused. The guard behind the desk was a different one from the person who had been there when they arrived. Now it was a thick, older woman on watch. She looked up from behind the high desk, unamused at another drunk person disrupting her evening.

"I've lost my friend and can't seem to remember what floor she lives on," he hiccupped for effect, "could you help me?"

The guard let out a sigh. "Name?"

"Hayley."

"Hayley what?"

Klaus grinned, ducking his head down. "Alright you've caught me, love. I didn't get her last name, but I'd like the chance if you know what I mean…"

"Sir, I'm not going to give you the apartment number of any of our residents," she gave him another once over, "aren't you a little old to be at a party full of college students?"

"I like younger women."

With an eye roll, she returned her attention to the small television in front of her, playing reruns of some late night crime drama. Klaus could see he was getting nowhere with the guard. He slunk back, staying in character until he rounded the corner where the elevators were. Best to get back upstairs, and see about Caroline.

"_Psst."_

He turned to see a voluptuous brunette in the corner, calling for his attention. "Henreitta is a beast. No one gets past her."

Klaus's lip twitched. "So it would seem."

"You're looking for Hayley?"

The girl walked toward him and pushed the elevator button again. She wore short denim shorts and a transparent peasant blouse, giving him a good view of her black bra underneath.

"I'm guessing you're a _referral_."

His gazed narrowed and he decided to go along. "Something like that."

"Well she's not home right now anyways," the girl told him.

He turned to face her, his hands behind his back, his eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that?"

"Because _I'm_ Hayley," she informed him. "Who are you and who told you about me?"

"Klaus," he extended a hand in her direction, "and it was a friend of yours. Graffiti artist."

"Derrick," Hayley said. Klaus could neither confirm nor deny this, considering they had never gotten the artist's name, but he nodded all the same, watching her roll her eyes. "That little shit."

The elevator dinged and Hayley stepped inside the empty space. "Come on," she said, "we'll talk upstairs."

Klaus rode up with to the fourteenth floor and followed her into an apartment he assumed she lived in. It was the same set up as every other place in the building that he had seen.

"My roommates are down at the party, have you been?"

"Yes," Klaus answered, taking in the details of her home, his keen eye brushing over the things that he saw and even didn't see.

"My room's this way."

Hayley led him to the second room and opened the door. Klaus continued his discreet survey once inside. She walked to her closet and took out a wooden box, setting it on her desk. Burned into the top of the box was an intricate wolf's head designed, surrounded by a flowering, swirled boarder. Klaus ran his fingers over the smooth wood.

"Have a thing for wolves?"

"You might say that," Hayley shrugged. "What are you interested in? I've got something for everyone."

He splayed his fingers across the top of the box, knowing what was inside. He could practically taste it. So close to him. A force under the lid of the box seemed to float up and through the wood, wrapping around his hand and clawing up his arm. It was the first time in over six months he had been that close to any sort of high. He could just imagine the sweet relief from the prick of a needle or the sniff of some powder. It was a battle of will, the beast inside screaming at him, bargaining, growling out _just give in_.

Then something caught his eye. A small slip of white paper at the edge of the corkboard behind her desk.

"So let me guess…artist?"

Klaus's attention snapped back to Hayley at her question.

"What makes you say that?"

"You know Derrick, plus you have this fuck-off sort attitude that I only get from artists."

"_Fuck-off_ attitude?"

"You know," Hayley said running a hand through her lush brown hair, "that pretentious not giving a damn about anyone or anything sort of way that all art guys seem to adapt so they can be taken more _seriously_. It's total bullshit. An act."

Klaus took a few steps toward her, close enough to smell her perfume and discern the exact shade of mahogany in her eyes. "Known a lot of artists have you?"

She grinned, not in the genuine happy way that Caroline seemed to affect, but in the way that said she wanted the receiver to know she was smarter than them. That she was worldly and rough edged and it was at his own peril if he chose to mess with her, but also that she might not mind being messed with.

"I've known a lot of everyone," she purred back.

"Is that so?"

Hayley let out a throaty laugh and backed away. "How about a drink? And when I come back, maybe we can make this a little more interesting."

She swerved out of the room and left him alone. Klaus fought the urge to roll his eyes at her naivety in leaving him alone with her stash. If he was an actual customer, he could steal whatever he wanted and dash out of there before she could stop him. But he noticed the lock on the box, and thought maybe she wasn't as unaware as he thought.

"Whiskey?"

"Sounds perfect," Klaus called back, taking the moment to slip over and examine the paper that had caught his attention before. His eyes scanned the paper and a smile touched his lips. _Fantastic_.

Hayley returned with a set of glasses and a bottle, pouring drinks for the two of them. Klaus decided that the charade had been carried on long enough. While Hayley was attractive, he had no interest in bedding her. Half the reason was the drugs. It wouldn't surprise him if any sexual escapade with her began and ended there. The other half was the fact that he could smell the insecurity rolling off of her. He could see it in her room. The lack of photos indicated that she was without many friends and possible family. The fact that she dealt drugs was probably symptomatic of that as well. The wear on her clothes said she wasn't rich; the brands supported this theory too. In her closet he only spotted two other pairs of shoes, boots and sneakers, very practical for someone needing to be frugal.

"Here," Hayley said handing him the glass of whiskey. The bittersweet smell invaded his nostrils as she clinked her own glass against his. "Cheers."

Klaus was about to set the drink down and excuse himself, when they were interrupted.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Klaus and Hayley turned to see the newcomer and Klaus was met with a violent stare.

"Dean!"

* * *

Caroline was on the thirteenth floor when she heard someone pop in from the stairwell and call out "fight." She had a bad feeling about it and rushed forward to beat the other curious partiers from getting to the door first. Running up the stairs, she burst through the door to the fourteenth floor and saw a crowd gathering outside of one of the rooms and angry male shouting coming from inside. She shoved her way through the audience, trying to get a peek, and praying that Klaus was not involved.

"Hayley I thought you were fucking done with this shit!"

"Dean this isn't really any of your business. If anything is done here, it's _you_. Let go of me."

"Now that's no way to treat a lady."

Caroline groaned at the last. That had definitely been Klaus's voice.

"What are you going to do about it asshole?"

Caroline reached the front of the line just in time to see Tyler's friend Dean, shove Klaus. Tyler was on the other side, looking between the three of them ready to step in.

"You don't want to do that," Klaus told him.

"What this?" Dean shoved him again.

Klaus stumbled back and chuckled. "Look _mate_, I'm not the man you want to pull the alpha male act on, so why don't you-"

Dean swung at Klaus, who ducked and then uppercut him in the stomach. Caroline rushed forward when Dean doubled over and Klaus swung back for another punch. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm in both hands and placed her body between him and Dean. Maybe not the smartest move on her part. Klaus paused, but his eyes were still hot on his opponent. Caroline knew that to get the guys to stop fighting she had to break their eye contact. Her hands went to his face and she attempted to turn his gaze to her.

"Klaus," she demanded her fingers pressing into his cheeks, "Klaus stop it!"

His stormy eyes flicked to her and she flinched at the look. For the first time, she saw the anger and rage that she had read about. This was the part of his personality that led him to almost killing a man once. Ignoring the alarm she felt, she kept her eyes locked with his, and held his face firmly in her hands.

"We are leaving," she ordered in the most commanding voice she could muster.

Klaus broke away and she followed him in a blur through the crowd and down to the street.

Once outside, the tension seemed to have lifted from Klaus. "Well I think we found a new lead," he announced, "that girl—"

Caroline held up a hand to stop him. "I don't care. I do not give a damn about leads or murderers right now. Right now I want to know what the hell just happened up there? No, you know what—I think I know. I've picked up a few tricks from you over the past few days and here's what _I_ can deduce. One) you reek of alcohol so all I can think is that you've been drinking. Two) You're getting into fist fights so obviously your judgment is impaired and Three)…well one and two are enough! I can't _believe_ I fell for this."

Klaus frowned, unamused with her assessment. "You really think that low of me? That I took this as a cover to find a fix? To release the anger I've been holding back and learning how to control for months?"

"I don't know what to think Klaus," Caroline said, "but this is it. I've been going easy on you. Tomorrow is a different story. Tomorrow you will start going to group sessions, you will get serious about finding a sponsor, and if you don't start talking to me we'll find someone else for you to talk to. We have five weeks left together and I'm not going to let you bully me anymore. This is my job to help you continue to be better and I'm going to do that and I'm not going to let you or anyone or anything else get in the way of that got it? I don't give a damn how smart you think you are and you think I'm not. No more screwing around. From now on, we do things my way."

* * *

**Anyone remember the Tyler can draw storyline from season 2? I decided to adapt that here. **

**Also, I don't want to come off as a Hayley hater! I'm totally not. I think she makes a lot of naive decisions based on the fact that she thinks she's smarter and tougher than she actually is...so that's the kind of characterization I'm giving her in this chapter.**

**The "locks" thing with Klaus is carried over from Sherlock in Elementary.**

**Anyways, drop me a review and let me know what you think :)**

**follow me on tumblr at Hybridlovelies**


	4. What You Know

**Thanks for the the reviews last chapter! I think I responded to everyone who wasn't a guest review. Love you all!**

**Just so you all know, I'm gonna do my best to balance the romance and the mystery in this fic. Sherlock isn't usually overtly romantic, but I'm a true sap at heart, and this is the Klaroline version! So it's coming...it's just slow :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"She's had a tough life. No parents, in and out of fosters homes. She's rough around the edges but who can blame her, she hasn't had it easy. Deep down she's a good person and a really good friend."

Caroline listened to Tyler as they strolled down Michigan Avenue, enjoying a couple of coffees. She was surprised when Tyler had caught her before the lecture started and asked if he could talk to her when class was over. Considering their first date at the party hadn't gone so well-thanks to Klaus almost beating up his friend-Caroline figured Tyler probably wouldn't be knocking down her door for a second. But he smiled at her when she walked into class that morning and gave her a little wave and she felt a small sense of relief that their potential connection hadn't totally been blown.

Caroline agreed to a quick coffee on the way to the train. She didn't have much time, needing to get back to Klaus-they were due at support group just after lunchtime. Fifteen minutes couldn't hurt to smooth things over with Tyler.

He began by explaining his relationship with Hayley. He told Caroline how she was an old friend, who had been in and out of his life growing up, and they had recently reconnected in Chicago when they found out they lived in the same neighborhood. Tyler explained how Hayley had had a history with drugs and a record to match, but was trying to turn her life around by going to school. Dean turned out to be a friend of Tyler's, and Hayley's quasi-boyfriend for the past few months.

"Dean's fallen kinda hard for her, so he's protective."

"I guess that's sort of romantic," Caroline said. "If you need some help with Hayley though, I know of some good resources. Rehabs, support groups for addicts, stuff like that. I've done some work in that field."

Tyler waved it off. "Thanks but I think Dean and I can handle it. We know how to talk to her."

Caroline nodded. She didn't want to press the issue, not knowing Tyler or his friends very well at all. In her experience, friends and family weren't always the best push when it came to recovery. Oftentimes, they were too gentle or worried about losing their loved ones by placing too much pressure on them.

"Oh, I need to get to the train," she said checking the time, "I have somewhere to be."

"Oh, okay," Tyler said seeming a little deflated. They said goodbye, Tyler lingering a bit, and Caroline skipped off to the train heading back to 221B.

* * *

"I sat there for days and days and just prayed. Every time I wanted a drink, I talked to God and he helped me through it all. He was always there to listen, even if I couldn't hear him talking back. The talking made everything better cause I know deep down, He's the only one that can judge me."

The woman speaking finished her testimony and the room applauded. There were a dozen or so people seated in creaking, metal chairs in the basement of a church that had been converted to what the sign over the door called a "fellowship hall". The smell of stale, cool air and cheap coffee permeated the small gathering.

Klaus wasn't paying attention to any of it. He was busy reciting the whole of David Copperfield to himself, which was far more interesting than what any of the sad people around him were saying. Caroline nudged him in the ribs and his gaze rolled to her. He put his hands together once, but refused to clap along with the rest of the sheep.

Caroline had remained professional, but he knew she was annoyed with him for his behavior at the party. Klaus wasn't going to play into that game though. He didn't have to answer to her or anyone else for his behavior and choices. He would go through the motions of her recovery plan and suffer through the rest of their time together. In a few weeks he would be rid of her and his brother's influence.

Another person approached the front of the room, and Klaus prepared himself for another dull story about some poor addict's road to recovery. He failed to see how any of their words should matter to him. The balding man in front opened his mouth before the vibrating chime of Klaus's cell phone interrupted. Everyone twisted in their chairs to see the disruption coming from the second to last row. Klaus retrieved his phone from his pocket, checking it with a smile. It was the timer that was going off. Klaus had taken care to set it at the exact moment the group meeting began. Silencing the chime, he shot to his feet and nodded at the others in the room.

"Well, it has been a sincere pleasure," he said before turning and striding out of the room.

He had hit the sidewalk breathing in the warm air of freedom, before Caroline caught up to him, screeching. _"What the hell?!"_

"You said I had to go to meetings," Klaus replied continuing on, "you didn't say anything about staying overtime."

"That was rude," Caroline said, slinging her purse strap across her body. "You know participating is also part of the deal. These groups and meetings are proven to help people maintain abstinence and grow within their recovery. I won't be around forever, you know."

"Glad to hear it, when are you leaving again?" Klaus smirked in her direction. Things were still rocky between them, to say the least. Any amount of friendship or understanding that had been growing had been undone by the events of the party.

Caroline let out a huge groan at his continued sarcasm and followed him around the corner and down their street. She had purposely picked a meeting near Klaus's home so he would have no excuse not to attend in the future. "I can't take the religious drivel those twelve step programs spout."

"You can be an atheist and still believe in a higher power, it doesn't have to be God. Just something...to turn to in times of crisis."

"I don't subscribe to any sort of faith," Klaus replied, "there is too much misery in the world. What sort of all-powerful being would allow his creations to suffer this much? You should know…you've witnessed first hand the evils of man."

He was referring to her father. Since deducing that little fact about her past, Klaus had taken the liberty of researching the incident online. The lack of progression on the Artist case left him without anything to focus on at the moment. He now knew everything the Internet had to tell him about the hate-crime that took her dad away from her.

Caroline didn't appreciate it being rubbed in her face at the moment.

"I chose to view it differently, I guess," Caroline said. "You would know if you ever had anything like that happen to you."

"Maybe I have," Klaus commented as he opened the gate to his home.

Caroline stopped, stunned, letting the iron gate slam behind her. It was the first time Klaus had voluntarily alluded to anything personal. For a moment she debated whether or not he was serious, or if he was just trying to prove a point. Caroline was about to ask another probing question, when Klaus's phone rang again. She joined him on the front steps as he answered.

"Alaric," Klaus said into the phone.

"Body found in an old abandoned factory next to I-94."

"The Artist?"

"Yep."

"I'm assuming you will be requiring my assistance?"

"I'll text you the address now."

Klaus hung up and two seconds later, Alaric had forwarded him the address of the crime scene. They arrived by cab about ten minutes later at a large, abandoned building right next to the interstate. It was dilapidated factory, covered in graffiti. A few cop cars were gathered outside, officers and yellow tape surrounding the scene. Alaric met them as they climbed out of the car.

"Oh Caroline," Alaric cleared his throat, attempting to cover his surprise. "Good to see you again."

Caroline smiled at the captain as Klaus pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket.

"What do we have?"

"A body found, reported anonymously this morning. Judging by the blisters and the swelling of the body, we're guessing the murder occurred sometime late Thursday night, early Friday morning."

"Let's have a look," Klaus said moving toward the entrance to the scene with Alaric. Caroline followed.

"Um," Alaric stopped just before they stepped inside, turning to Caroline, "You might want to wait out here."

He remembered her minor freak-out to the body and scene at The Bohemian. But Caroline had been staring at photos of dead and mutilated bodies for days, she wasn't worried about seeing a little blood and gore at this point.

"I'm fine," Caroline said, pressing onward.

It took about two seconds in the presence of the scene to realize she wasn't fine, though. The scene in front of her was different than the neat murder at the Bohemian, or the degree of separation provided in the photographs she had seen in the files or, on Klaus's smell alone was revolting. Caroline remembered being in junior high, riding her bike home from school, and passing by a poor raccoon that had been hit by a car. Every day for two weeks she would have to hold her breath as she passed by that particular spot to avoid the putrid smell of rotting animal. It was like spoiled milk and week old garbage and fish combined, making her gag with each breath. This was a hundred times worse.

On the floor was a body: bloated, bloodied, and twisted. It was the wrong color, the wrong shape; Caroline probably wouldn't have even realized it was a man if she didn't already know. The bones had been broken and rearranged so that the dead man was twisted into an 'S' sort of shape. The jaw had been dislocated into a ghastly, silent scream and his hands nailed to the sides of his cheeks. The eye sockets were empty, blood trailing down his grey, puffy face from where his eyes used to be. Instead they were filled with some sort of white substance. Around the body was a swirl of color-blues, oranges, yellows, and reds-and in the lower corner of the scene was a symbol. The star symbol.

"Interesting," Klaus said, "our first non-Renaissance themed work."

"The Scream," Caroline said, riveted by the carnage in front of her.

"Edvard Munch," Klaus added, kneeling down. "Why the change?"

Alaric passed a concerned look at Caroline before slipping back into his detective mode. "No ID on the victim yet. He's probably just another poor homeless bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Klaus stood again and walked the scene. He observed the "painting" the Artist had created, studying the care with which it was done. The murderer had gone to great lengths to recreate the famed masterpiece, down to the technique and brush strokes used. Once he was satisfied with the area surrounding the body, he turned his attention to the rest of the room. In the dust on the floor, he could see four precise squares.

"There was a table set up here," Klaus said pointing to the squares, which were left by the legs of the worktable. "The murderer had set up his or her tools here."

"We didn't find any murder weapons."

"No, you wouldn't," Klaus replied. "Like any good artist he keeps his brushes and tools with himself at all times."

"Or herself," Caroline corrected.

Klaus smirked. "Or herself." He leaned down to the floor again, noticing darker bits of dirt on the floor. "Cigarette ash. The killer smoked while he or she worked."

"How do you know it's from the killer?" Caroline asked.

"It's fresh. It's on top of the rest of the dirt on the floor which means it hasn't been here that long and only two people have been in this room in the past few days. The killer and the victim."

"What about the person who reported the body? Maybe they were smoking."

"No. They would have never gotten this close to the scene, much less stopped to light a cigarette."

Klaus placed a gloved finger and pressed it to the ash on the floor, picking some of it up. He observed it closely, lifting the finger to his nose so he could smell it. "Dunhills," Klaus said.

"How do you know that?"

"I can name over one hundred forty forms of cigars, cigarettes, and pipe tobacco based on their ash alone," Klaus replied. "I had a lot of free time during my stay at Sunlight Acres. Dunhills are an expensive and rare brand."

Caroline looked over to Alaric, who seemed to accept this explanation with a look of relief that he now had some sort of definitive clue about The Artist.

Before they left, Klaus took samples of the different paints around the murder scene as well as a bit of the cigarette ash.

"So what's next?" Caroline asked when as they walked outside. She was happy to breathe in air that didn't smell like rotting, dead person. A new cab had been called for them and was waiting outside. She grabbed the handle and climbed in, Klaus sliding up next to her.

"We're going to Baskerville," Klaus announced. The driver nodded and pulled forward as the door shut.

"Please don't tell me we're going to talk to Hayley," Caroline said. "I thought you were over that."

"Jealous, love?" Klaus quipped. "Don't worry, she's not half the thorn in my side that you are." Caroline made a face at his remark. "I'll drop you at the flat first."

"No way," Caroline said, "you are not going to Baskerville to talk to Hayley by yourself."

"I can't bring you along," Klaus replied, "not for what I have planned for the little she-wolf."

"Then change of plans," Caroline protested, "there's no way I'm letting you go alone. She's a drug dealer and last time you tried talking to her by yourself you got into a fight. So we're going together. I don't care if I have to steal Alaric's handcuffs and chain myself to you."

Klaus grinned at her. "I never would have guessed you were into bondage."

* * *

They arrived at Baskerville and checked in with the security guard at the desk. He placed a call to Hayley, who gave them the go ahead to come up. Klaus knocked onthe door and they waited for her to answer.

Hayley opened the door wearing a loose v-neck t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, her wild curls swept to one side. The smile she gave Klaus fell from her face as soon as she saw Caroline standing next to him.

"You brought a friend," Hayley said.

"This is Caroline," Klaus said gesturing to her. "My bodyguard. I thought I might bring her along in case your boyfriend was around again."

Hayley let out a sultry laugh at his joke and let them inside. "_Ex_-boyfriend. If you can even call him that." They walked into the living room, the remnants of a party the night before laid around the room. A few cups were scattered over the coffee table, along with an ash tray and some half-smoked cigarettes. Next to it all Caroline spotted a few glass pipes and picked up the stale smell of weed in the air. She passed an uneasy glance at Klaus but he seemed unaffected, his blue-gray eyes following Hayley's movements around the room. "So, what can I do for you today?"

"I was hoping to finish our business from the other night," Klaus replied. "But first I was hoping you could point me to your facilities?"

"Through my room," Hayley replied. "I'm sure you remember where that is."

Caroline fought the urge to roll her eyes at the way everything Hayley said dripped with innuendo. Klaus disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the two girls alone. Hayley's semi-friendly demeanor dropped with Klaus's absence.

"Drink?" she asked Caroline.

"No, thanks."

Hayley shrugged and walked to the open kitchen, pulling out a soda for herself. It popped and fizzed as she cracked it open. "You're Ty's girl, right?"

"Ty?"

"Tyler. Lockwood."

"Oh," Caroline said. "Well, we've only hung out a couple times. I don't think that really makes me his girl."

"He likes you. A lot. Apparently a couple times was enough to put him under your spell." Her tone implied that she did not approve of her friend's choice in potential girlfriend. Caroline didn't appreciate Hayley's harsh treatment. The brunette didn't know her from Eve. She didn't get why there was such hostility there.

"He's a good guy," Caroline replied, not sure what else to say.

"If you hurt him," Hayley pinned her with a serious stare, "I will personally pull every strand of that pretty blonde hair from your head. Got it?"

Caroline gave her a tight smile, unafraid of Hayley's tough-girl attitude. She came off as girly, but Caroline wasn't going to let herself be pushed around by anyone, especially not tomboy, she-sluts with drug problems. "You know what, I'm thirsty after all. Got any bottled water?"

Hayley gave her cool stare, the corner of her lip twitching into a slight sneer. "Coming right up."

* * *

Klaus could hear the two girls talking in the other room as he searched through Hayley's room. He grinned to himself; Caroline seemed to be holding her own well enough while Hayley attempted to intimidate her. With all the commotion at the party, his companion had missed the looks Hayley had been throwing the Lockwood boy the other night at the party. Klaus hadn't. He could see that Hayley may sleep with some men and flirt with others, but her heart's true desire was written all over her face.

Klaus looked quickly through her drawers and closet trying to find anything that might connect her further to their killer. On her desk he found the same paper he had seen the night of the party with the symbol on it. He picked it up again and examined it, then his eyes focused on what was underneath. Klaus picked up the small, red, paper box and quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you mind if I bum a cigarette?" Klaus reentered the living room,holding up the pack of cigarettes he had found on Hayley's desk. "I haven't seen a pack of Dunhills since I left England."

"Be my guest," Hayley said. "They aren't mine. I don't smoke."

Klaus slipped the pack into his pocket. "Well sweetheart, thank you so much for your time. I think we'll be going."

He passed a pointed look to Caroline and she picked up his cue, hurrying toward him as he turned to the door.

"Stop," Hayley said and the two of them froze. They turned in unison to look back at the girl, who let out a slight chuckle. "Fuck. I had an instinct and I went against it. I'm so stupid. You guys are cops aren't you? Well maybe not Barbie here, but you damn well are."

"Hey!" Caroline yelled.

"Not cops exactly," Klaus said stepping back toward her. "I'm a consulting detective with the Chicago Police Department."

"What the hell is a consulting detective?"

"Have no fear. I'm not interested in your drug dealings. I'm interested in this."

Klaus slipped the paper with the star symbol from his pocket and held it in front of Hayley's face. She looked at it dejectedly and then back at him.

"What about it?"

"Cooperate sweetheart, or I'll be forced to pass your name along to someone who _will _be interested in your little business endeavors."

"It's a symbol," she replied. "I was doing research for a school project and thought it looked cool so I copied it. I was thinking of getting a tattoo."

"What kind of school project?"

"I'm an art history major. I was doing an independent study to make up for missing so much class," she said.

"So, why don't you tell me what you've learned about this symbol during your studies?"

Hayley snatched the paper from his hand with a sneer. "It was used by this group called 'Expressionists' that existed around the time of Da Vinci."

"Weren't expressionists like, 20th century?" Caroline interjected.

"Wow, look at the big brain on Barbie," Hayley said. Caroline fought the urge to slap her. "They were a different group."

"And what made them so different?" Klaus asked.

"Beats the hell out of me. It's some secret society like the Illuminati, but way more secret. You can't find anything about them online. I had to come up with a different project idea."

Klaus gave her a tight smile and a little knock of his finger under her chin. "Thanks for the cooperation," he turned, taking Caroline by the elbow and pulling her along with him.

As they walked down the street, Klaus pulled out his cellphone. "Captain," Klaus said into the phone, "I have something that may interest you."

* * *

Caroline thought they might head home, but instead they stopped at the police station. Inside, Klaus pulled out the pack of Dunhill cigarettes from his pocket and handed it over to the crime lab to be analyzed and catalogued. "Here, these might provide some interesting results."

They sat inside the small conference room, waiting for the results. Caroline nursed a small cup of coffee while Klaus stared at his phone, searching for anything he could find about Expressionists. It was as Hayley said, there wasn't much information to be found on the group, including any evidence that they ever existed.

"So, whoever's prints are on the cigarette box is the murderer?" Caroline asked, breaking the silence.

"If any prints can be found," Klaus replied, "it's likely. The brand is uncommon. There are too many coincidences lining up."

"Maybe the murderer is Hayley," Caroline suggested.

"Unlikely," Klaus replied. "She said she didn't smoke. Which is true."

"How do you know she's not lying?"

"Lack of nicotine under her nails or discoloration of her teeth, evident on most smokers. Not to mention it's an expensive brand. I doubt sweet Hayley is wealthy enough to spend extra money on fancy cigarettes."

"Oh," Caroline said, leaning back into her chair.

"You sound disappointed, love," Klaus smirked. "I get the feeling you wanted Hayley to be the murderer."

Caroline shrugged innocently. "Well she wasn't very nice. And she was lying about something."

"What makes you say that?"

"She kept touching her neck," Caroline answered. "Messing with the charm on her necklace. It's a classic habit of people who are lying." Klaus's attention left the phone and he looked over at Caroline. She shifted under the scrutiny of his gaze. "What? Psych student remember? Plus, it helps the whole sober companion thing if I know how to spot liars."

Klaus chuckled and continued scrolling through his phone. "Damn," he muttered, "there is absolutely nothing to be found about Expressionists. I suppose I'll have to do this the old fashioned way."

A thought came to Caroline then. "Hayley said that the Expressionists were part of like this super secret, secret society right?"

'That's correct," Klaus replied.

"Well one of my professors at school wrote like, a whole book on secret societies," Caroline said. "He might have heard of them."

"Perhaps we should pay your professor a visit."

"We could do that," Caroline said, "on one condition."

"You aren't exactly in the position to make conditions Caroline," Klaus said. "I can do this with or without you."

"But _with _me would be easier."

"I've never shied away from a challenge."

Caroline leaned forward over the table, meeting his gaze, the glimmer in her eyes matching his. "Neither have I."

"Fine," Klaus consented. "What is your condition?"

"You answer a question. A personal question about yourself. Truthfully."

"One question," Klaus consented. "Only one."

Caroline nodded, accepting the terms. She thought quickly. Of course she a billion questions that she would want to ask Klaus. Which one was the most important to her? Which answer might unlock a few clues into the man before her? If this was her only chance for free information, what did she want to know?

"Who is Rebekah?"

Klaus's expression soured. It was clear that was not a question he was expecting. Caroline thought he might go back on his word or tell her to piss off instead of answering. She didn't break eye contact with him as she waited for him to speak, hoping he would answer as promised.

"Rebekah was my sister," Klaus said. "She died. I did not take it very well."

Caroline's heart clenched at his confession, seeing the haunted look in his eyes. His hands were on top of the table and she felt like she should reach over and offer some sort of comfort. But knowing what she knew of Klaus, that sort of physical comfort wouldn't be accepted. Any sort of comfort wouldn't be accepted.

Rebekah's death could have happened years ago-Caroline had no idea-but the drawn look on Klaus's face made it seem like it had only been days. Her own face made that look whenever someone unexpectedly brought up her dad. She wanted to ask more. How, why, when, but she stayed silent. Keeping to her word of only one question.

Just then, Alaric walked into the room, breaking the tension.

"We found three sets of prints on the box," Alaric said, "yours, that girl's, and one other."

Klaus stood up, his demeanor shifting immediately. "Who is the third?"

"The third belongs to a guy named Connor Jordan."

* * *

**Oooooh!**

**No?**

**haha**

**The cigarette ash thing is pulled from Sherlock Holmes canon. It's usually spread across many variations, so I chose to add it here. **

**Anyways hope you are still enjoying things :)**

**Thanks to my beta Kady (klausykins) for this one! You're a gem!**

**follow me on tumblr at Hybridlovelies**


	5. What's In the Middle

**Hey all! Thanks for being patient on the update! And SUPER THANKS to all the follows, likes, reviews on this story. **

**And SUPER SUPER thanks to my betas Kady (Klausykins) and the new edition to the Best-Damn-Beta-Team Christine (melanoradrood)! She writes Queen of the Heartless which is a really cool Klaroline AU fic that you all should definitely check out!**

**Okay now for the update, apologies for any factual errors! I only know so much when it comes to police work and google the rest.**

* * *

"Connor Jordan. African-American male, aged 33. Five foot eleven inches tall, born in Queens, New York. Has two previous run-ins with the police including an assault charge at age eighteen and served time and paid fines for computer hacking."

Klaus was seated at his dining table, running through the file that Alaric had provided him on Connor Jordan.

"Likes long walks on the beach and prefers pizza and a movie, to a fancy night out on the town." Caroline smiled at her own joke as she placed a dinner plate in front of him. On the table was a large brown bag, the smell of greasy chinese take-out seeping through the thin paper.

Klaus smirked at her quip. "Shall I pass along your phone number should he prove innocent, or are things still going along with that Taylor bloke?"

Caroline rolled her eyes, but didn't correct him. She knew Klaus was just trying to bait her. He could remember cases files he had seen from five years ago and figure out what someone had for breakfast based on what they were wearing that day; he certainly knew that Taylor was not _Tyler's _actual name.

She sat down across from Klaus, serving herself some of the slippery chicken lo mein from a white paper container. Her fingers slipped the two chop sticks from their red sleeve and her stomach grumbled in excitement. It wasn't the healthiest dinner on the planet but she couldn't resist the call of take out chinese. "So how are the police gonna find this guy?"

"Alaric's already put a warrant out," Klaus explained closing the file and setting it aside. "But there is no current address for him listed anywhere."

"So basically it's looking for a needle in a haystack."

"I have a few thoughts on how to narrow down the haystack," Klaus said. "This is interesting. It seems our Mr. Jordan was married and divorced…to a Grace Ferriar, who reported him missing almost a year ago. She lives over in Worth, just thirty minutes outside the city. We might be paying her a visit. When can we go see this professor of yours?"

Caroline blinked as she swallowed a bite of food, confused by the quick switch in topics. "Um, I have class again on Friday."

Klaus gave her a sour look. "We are in the middle of a murder investigation and you think we have the luxury of waiting two days?"

"I know he has office hours tomorrow," she suggested, "I can email him for an appointment." When Caroline didn't move right away, Klaus gave her another impatient look. She set her chopsticks down and stood up. "Okay, okay I'll do it now."

Klaus gave her a satisfied nod and she ran upstairs to retrieve her laptop to email professor Shane. Caroline sat it on the table, next to her dinner, and wrote a quick email asking to speak to him "about some research" and clicked send.

"You know, I don't get why you still want to go talk to Professor Shane about Expressionists," Caroline said. "I mean we know the killer now."

"We have a suspect; nothing is proven yet," Klaus replied. "And I still want to talk to him because of this."

Klaus flipped over a photograph of Conner and showed it to Caroline. It was a picture of the back of his hand, and on it was a tattoo. The same star symbol they had been chasing since the investigation had begun. Caroline understood now. _Too many coincidences._

Just then her email dinged with a reply from the professor.

"Oh," she said reading over the email, "he said we can stop by tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

The next afternoon, Klaus and Caroline found themselves once again in the Loop at Caroline's school. As a full-time professor, Shane had an office located in the Humanities department on the tenth floor of the same building all of her classes tended to be held. The halls were empty, only a few students hanging around waiting between classes. They breezed into the elevators and rode up to the main office for the department. The student receptionist at the desk greeted them and called Shane to let him know there was someone to see him.

"Ah, Caroline," Shane greeted her. "You brought a friend."

"Yeah this is Klaus Mikaelson, he's uh—"

"Consulting detective for the Chicago Police Department," Klaus supplied, extending his hand to Shane.

"Atticus Shane." The professor shook his hand and stepped back. "Shall we go into my office?"

Shane led them down the hall, to his office and let them inside. It was large, but cramped by the massive bookshelves overflowing with various texts. A large window at the back provided a beautiful view of Grant Park across the street and the sparkling waters of Lake Michigan beyond.

"So, I'm guessing this isn't about you wanting to get a jumpstart on your term paper," Shane said shutting the door. He gestured the green chairs and Klaus and Caroline sat down.

"No," Caroline replied, "not exactly."

Her head turned to Klaus, who leaned forward to address Shane. "I assume you're familiar with The Artist murders that have been taking place recently."

"Of course," Shane replied. "I'd say anyone who spares even the slightest glance at the local news knows about them. But if the Chicago PD are looking for a consultant on the case I would imagine that an actual psychologist would be more helpful, if the police department isn't already speaking to one."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about secret societies, Professor."

Shane passed a confused look to Caroline and she felt a bit guilty that she hadn't prepared him for their questions. Maybe she should have given him some sort of idea about their true purpose in the meeting instead of ambushing him.

"I told Klaus you wrote a book about secret societies," Caroline explained. "We wanted to know if you had ever heard anything about Expressionists."

The professor placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, switching into scholar mode. "As a matter of fact I have," he said. "Throughout history there have been many groups of killers, like Charles Manson and the Helter Skelter movement, who kill solely for the purpose of wreaking havoc on society. Murder clubs or killing clubs. Usually, there is some cause that historians write to explain the reasonings behind the killings-revolution, rebellion, general insanity-but there are some modern academics that argue with these retellings. But out of any supposed killing club that has existed over the course of history, it's said that Expressionists were the most feared."

"So who are they?" Caroline asked.

"I studied a lot of different societies when I was researching my book," Shane continued. "The Skulls, Free Masons, Opus Dei…I came across a lot of dark secrets and legends. But history doesn't say anything about Expression; it's like humanity wants to blot it out from existence, as their cause was just too terrible to stomach."

"And what was their cause?"

"Killing. The pure, unadulterated joy of killing. I can definitely see why you might think The Artist could be linked to it all."

"Why do you say that?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Because," Shane replied, "this group was a group of artists in a sense. Normally, an Expressionist group was no more than five core members and a leader. They liked to get creative with their work. The last suspected Expressionist was in London in 1888."

"Jack the Ripper," Klaus said, his accent drawing out the word, making an _ahh _sound.

"Precisely," Shane answer with the smile of a proud teacher. "If Jack the Ripper was an Expressionist, then it would certainly explain the pattern of his murders and the fact that there is still so much mystery surrounding the case. Some believe that Jack—whoever he was—was exterminated by his fellow members."

"Why would other Expressionists want to kill one of their own?" Caroline asked.

"The law the societies live under, especially one has violent and heinous as Expressionists, are different than the ones that the rest of man follows. There could be any number of reasons they might turn on one another." Shane's eyes dazzled as he spoke, his voice holding that inspired tone of respect academics could affect when speaking about even the most heinous parts of human history. "It would be difficult for Expression to rise again in this day and age, with the development of forensics, onset of social media, and the advancement of police work…anyone that was a true Expressionist would be a true criminal mastermind."

"You seem to have vast knowledge of Expression," Klaus observed, "yet you claim there isn't much documented history to go on."

"Oral history is still history," Shane countered. "It's just a matter of filtering through what you hear and choosing what you want to believe. It requires a little faith on the matter. Something that most scholars aren't comfortable relying on."

* * *

Once they left Shane's office, Klaus wanted to make a stop at the bookstore, to pick up a copy of the professor's book.

"I've read the book," Caroline said as they stood in line. "There isn't a single thing about Expression in there."

"No, but he mentioned coming across it in his research," Klaus said. "There has got to be something about Expression in this book, even if it's just subtle clues. Academics always like to brag when they know more than their colleagues. They can't help themselves."

Klaus paid for the book and they made their way down Michigan Avenue. Across the street, there was a stage set up, and different couples enjoying an afternoon dance in the shade of the tall trees. She smiled at the nice scene it made, enjoying the summer air and the music as they strolled by. Her enjoyment of the dance music was interrupted though when Caroline heard her cell phone ringing from inside her purse. She looked at the caller ID and saw Tyler's name.

"Hey Tyler," she answered.

Klaus smirked at her forced tone. It was a slight edge to her voice, almost imperceptible. Caroline tended to do that a lot, he had noticed. She was bright and polite to people, like the Lockwood boy and her Professor Shane, but her demeanor would become tight and cautious. Klaus picked up on the tense set of her shoulders, and the faint lines of forced grinning around her mouth whenever she was addressing other people. It was a well-rehearsed act that had at some point become habit. Caroline didn't even realize she was doing it.

"I could do dinner tomorrow night. Seven okay?" Caroline paused, waiting for an answer. "No, no I'm out of the way. We can just meet at the restaurant…okay, I'll see you then."

She hung up and dropped the phone back into her bag, then looked over to see Klaus trying and failing to hide the amused grin on his face.

"What?"

"Persistent little pup isn't he?" Klaus said.

"Shut up," Caroline replied.

"Perhaps I should accompany you on your date," Klaus suggested. "I'm a good judge of character. I'm sure I could tell you within the first three minutes whether or not Tyler will be a suitable choice for you."

"I've gotten along fine without you in the past. I'm sure I can handle it now," Caroline said.

"Rebekah never appreciated my advice on the opposite sex either," Klaus said, clicking his tongue.

Caroline swallowed, the mention of his sister once again throwing her for a loop. She peeked over at him as they continued to walk, his face giving away nothing about the flippant comment he had just made. She didn't know if she was allowed to ask anything about Rebekah, but she was dying to know. Not only because of her inner southern gossip girl, but the fact that Klaus continued to be such an enigma and he bristled any time Caroline even tip-toed around trying to get any personal information out of him. Maybe since _he _had been the one to bring her up again—

"Captain," Klaus said putting his phone to his ear. Caroline had been so preoccupied she hadn't heard it ring. "Right. Thank you." He hung up and turned to Caroline. "Alaric is going to text me the address of Connor Jordan's estranged wife. She's agreed to speak to us."

Klaus and Caroline took a cab from the Loop and made their way out to one of suburbs south of the city. The house they arrived at was small and yellow, with lovely purple flowers in neat beds around the front window. The yard was scattered with a few child's toys: a ball, a discarded doll, a big plastic tricycle with silver streamers, the glitter on them a bit faded. In the driveway was a small sedan, with a faded green paint job and a few scratches around the exterior. Caroline never ventured outside of the city that often, having no reason to leave the comfort of the tall buildings and bustling streets. Being in the suburbs made Chicago seem almost like a normal town, like the one she came from.

They walked up to the small porch and Klaus pressed the doorbell. The door was opened by a brown skinned woman, with small spiraling curls poofing out around her head. She looked to be about mid-thirties, wearing a pink t-shirt over a pair of denim capri pants. The headband around her hair matched the orange and green swirls in her shirt.

"Yes?" The woman greeted behind the screen.

"Grace Ferriar?" The woman nodded. "I'm Klaus Mikaelson with the Chicago Police Department, this is my associate Caroline Forbes. I believe you spoke with Captain Saltzman and he informed you that we would be stopping by?"

"Right, yes," Grace said opening the door. "Please come in."

Grace led them to the kitchen and offered them seats at the small wooden table. "Can I get you both anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Caroline said. The kitchen was small, with a small wooden table in the center. They each took a mismatched chair. Caroline looked down and noticed faint, colored paint stains on the surface of the wood.

"Ms. Ferriar," Klaus said, "how did you become aware of the warrant out for your ex-husband's arrest?"

"Husband," she corrected. "We never finalized our divorce before he disappeared. I have a…friend…who works for CPD. He saw the warrant go out for his arrest and told me about it. I was curious. Do you really like Conner is a serial killer?"

Klaus said. "What can you tell us about him?"

"Connor is a lot of things. He was always really smart. Really into computers…he got in trouble a couple times for hacking. A couple people paid him money to do some spying around the time I got pregnant. He took it because we needed it. He had a dark side…that was why I left him in the end. I didn't want my daughter to grow up around that. He got clean though when Lucy was five, so I started letting him come visit more often. Then two years ago, he up and disappears. I don't know what happened. He doesn't have any living family. I reported him missing, thinking maybe he got caught up in some sort of gang stuff again or something."

"You said he got clean, Connor was an addict?"

"No he never touched any drugs or alcohol. He smoked cigarettes but that's about it. His father was a junkie. Connor watched him go through that and vowed never to touch any drug ever." Grace looked between Caroline and Klaus and then continued. "No, he had a real bad temper I mean. Needed anger management. And was involved in a gang. You know with most of those, you don't get out for no reason."

Caroline's gaze went to the fridge. There were various crayon drawings and finger paintings held up by colorful magnets as well as a few school papers with gold stars. On the freezer door was a framed photo of Grace, her arms wrapped around a little girl. That, Caroline guessed, must have been Lucy. Connor Jordan's daughter. She looked like she was about eight years old in the photograph. Caroline guessed it must have been a recent picture. She wondered what it might be like to have a father who was a serial killer.

"Does that have anything to with the tattoo on the back of his hand?" Klaus asked.

Grace shook her head. "Connor didn't have any tattoos. Not on his hands. He had a few on his back, on across his torso, but not anywhere that couldn't be covered up. He never took any of the symbols of the gangs he was involved with. Connor had too much pride. He wouldn't let anyone mark him like that."

Klaus nodded, a look passing between him and Caroline. That meant that Connor's star tattoo had been acquired recently.

"You two are detectives?" Grace asked. "Well maybe you can solve this mystery for me. About three months ago, I noticed that $5000 dollars had been deposited to my bank account. I'm an honest woman, so I went up to the bank and told them about the mix-up. They tell me it's no mistake, that it was an approved deposit of money to my account. A month later…another $5000. I think it was Connor. Question is…where did he get the money from?"

* * *

Caroline was in her room that evening attempting to select an outfit for her dinner date with Tyler the next night. She didn't have many options packed with her at 221B. Going on a date hadn't been in her plans when she had been packing for her temporary stay. She tried on different shoe and dress combinations, while dancing around in front of her mirror, holding up her curls to decide what looked best. Did she want to play it cool and wear something casual, or dress up and in attempt to look effortlessly sexy? After a while she gave up, throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants and heading downstairs to get some work done.

Klaus was seated at the table, his bare feet kicked up onto the tabletop and his nose pressed firmly into Shane's book. He was about halfway through the 800 page volume, his eyes moving rapidly across the page. Caroline set her laptop down on the table and shuffled across to the kitchen, her leopard print slippers scraping across the tile.

"Cup of tea would be lovely," Klaus said. "Thanks."

"I'm not your housekeeper," Caroline replied. "But just this once."

She pulled out two large mugs and poured water into the kettle, settling it onto the stove to boil. Taking a seat at the table, kitty corner from Klaus, Caroline opened her computer and the screen came to life illuminated her face with a pale white glow. Her teeth chewed her lip as she watched Klaus reading from the corner of her eye. She could practically see the gears in his complicated head turning, filing away every word, syllable, and thought he consumed from Shane's pages and sorting them into something that made sense to the theory he was concocting about the murder suspects and Expression.

"You know," Caroline said, "if you ever wanna talk about Rebekah, you can."

"What makes you think I want to discuss my dead sister," Klaus answered without pulling his eyes away from his book.

"You brought her up twice," Caroline replied, tapping her finger against the surface of her keyboard. "Look I'm not going to force you. I'm just putting the offer on the table."

Klaus didn't respond as the kettle began to whistle on the stove. Caroline nodded once and got up from her chair to finish making their teas. She let the bags steep, steam swirling into the air, while she pulled some milk out of the fridge and found a container of sugar on the far shelf in the cupboard. Caroline put the contents on the table for Klaus, and stirred some sugar into her own tea, taking a tentative sip.

She began typing into her computer, letting her tea cool next to her, while Klaus's remained untouched. They sat in silence for a while, Caroline unable to concentrate on her homework with all of the questions and thoughts swirling around in her head.

"You know, I couldn't stop talking about my dad after he was killed," Caroline said. "I talked to police, to friends, to my therapist, to random people at the store…I couldn't help but keep asking why, why, why? Things like hate crime just didn't happen to people I love. That stuff happened on the news, across the country, in other towns. Not to me. Why was my family picked to become someone else's cautionary tale? And then I started asking myself how could someone hate a stranger so much, that they would kill them? And not just kill them…but beat them over and over until that person was dead?" Caroline took a deep, calming breath. "That's kind of how I got into psychology. Just trying to figure out why people do the things they do. Good and bad."

At the end of her speech, she turned her attention to her laptop and began typing again, brushing her thumb over the scroll pad, her attention now on the screen. Klaus set down his book and leaned forward, finally picking up his mug of tea. He watched Caroline as she typed, her delicate fingers _clack, clack, clacking_ over the keys.

"You're not going to let it go are you?"

Caroline looked up at him. "What?"

"Rebekah," Klaus said. "You're not going to let it go until I bleed my heart to you and tell you everything you're dying to know. All the dark parts that make up the man before you. So you can know why I do the things I do."

"Klaus, that's not what—"

He stood up from his seat then. "I'm sure each of us poor, broken addicts just add to your little science experiment on humanity."

"You think that's what I'm doing? That I'm just trying to help you or anyone else for my own benefit?" Caroline pushed her computer aside. "I'm not trying to _figure you out _Klaus, I'm trying to reach out to you. On your terms. But any time I take a step forward you just push me back. You know, for all of your constant accusations that I'm always the one trying to put you in a little box, you do a hell of a job of doing that yourself."

Klaus raised his chin. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Caroline said, standing up. "All your deductions, all your observations about people. You look at someone for two seconds and think you know their entire life history and personality based on what you see on the outside or the few things they say to you. Well you know what, I noticed something about you."

"And what is that?"

"I don't see any mirrors around here," Caroline said waving her hand around the room.

Klaus sneered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…I think you know a lost cause when you see one."

Caroline stared into Klaus's hard eyes a moment longer before abandoning her tea and homework and heading upstairs to her room.

* * *

"Nik, leave me the hell alone!"

"Rebekah, listen to me. I am your brother."

"No, Nik. I'm tired. I'm tired of hearing all of your misgivings about Alexander. I can't believe I doubted him…based on your silly observations. I should have known better. You just wanted attention as always. It's always about you."

The blonde walked across the room, reaching for the brown coat hanging on the hook next to the door. Klaus followed her.

"How can you trust him? Over family?"

Rebekah sighed, her eyes closing and then opening again. "He's going to be my family Nik," She said. Klaus sucked in a breath of surprise. "We're getting married. So you had better get used to it."

"I promise you Rebekah, he isn't who you think he is."

"And who are you?" she shouted, not caring that their eldest brother was asleep in another room. Elijah had just come off a 18 hour shift at the hospital. "I barely recognize you anymore. You scare me Nik. You show up to Elijah's house, after weeks of not calling, looking like death and raving about some killer you were chasing in Cardiff. You need help Niklaus. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Klaus rolled his lips together in consternation. This wasn't about him. He was in control. It was Rebekah that was making the huge mistake. She scoffed and turned away but Klaus's hand shot out, grabbing her arm, his fingers squeezing her muscle. "Rebekah, please."

"Let go, you're hurting me," Rebekah begged, but his grip only tightened. "Nik stop it! Nik!"

He let go of her, suddenly realizing what he was doing. "I'm sorry."

"You haven't been here. And for the past two months, Alex has. He has taken care of me." Rebekah said, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I miss my brother. I don't recognize this man." Her words struck him, an odd mix of hurt and anger boiling in his chest.

"This again," Klaus rolled his eyes and turned away. He had heard it a million times, from both Rebekah and Elijah. He had their little speeches memorized to the point that he could predict the moment their voices would drop into a serious whisper or where the dramatic pauses would come. But they didn't understand. They couldn't.

Rebekah let out another sigh. She picked up her purse from the side table and slung it over her shoulder, pausing before she turned the knob. "It's me or the drugs Nik. I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I'm going to marry Alexander and he is going to become your brother too. We're going to have a family. I want you to be a part of it…but not this way."

Klaus kept his back to her, listening to the sound of the door opening and shutting behind him.

"Rebekah! Wait!"

Klaus blinked. He was in his own living room, in 221B, sitting indian style on the large area rug on the floor. The hardwood underneath pressed into his tailbone as he came back to reality. In his lap was the book he had been reading all night. He must have zoned out and fallen asleep.

He blinked. Once, twice, trying to come back to reality. Which each blink he pushed down the pain and panic he had been feeling coming out of the dream. Memory. Nightmare. _Reality_. Awake or asleep it made no difference.

Before he even realized it, he had rolled up off the floor and headed toward the stairs. At the top, he saw a light coming from under Caroline's bedroom door. Was she still awake? He stood outside the door, listening for a moment, not hearing any movement. Slowly he opened the door, and saw Caroline fast asleep, a textbook laying open across her lap. Her chest moved up and down in a gentle rhythm, the light from her bedside casting a warm orange glow across her face.

Klaus crossed over and picked the book from off her stomach, closing it and setting it beside the bed. Next he grabbed the blanket that was bunched at the foot of the stacked mattress, pulling it over her legs. It was purple, and not something he recognized. She must have brought it from her home. He looked at her face, noticing that she had washed the makeup away. A few light freckles covered her cheeks, possibly left over from summer trips to the beach. As he stood over her again, Caroline's eyes fluttered open to see Klaus. She frowned.

"Come to yell at me some more?" Caroline asked sitting up.

"Yes," Klaus replied. "But I took pity on you when I saw you sleeping."

"How kind."

Caroline let out a huff and sat there, waiting for Klaus to leave her room. But he didn't move. He stood next to her little floor bed for a moment, debating, before he sat down next to her.

"I asked myself the same questions," Klaus said. "After Rebekah was killed."

"Killed?" Caroline said, her expression softening.

"Murdered," Klaus replied. "Her body washed up in the Thames after she had been missing nearly a week. The last conversation we had was an argument. About her boyfriend. She told me she was getting married. It was all Rebekah ever wanted in life, to be a wife and a mother and now…" Klaus let his thought trail off. Caroline scooted a bit closer to him. "I tried to find him after the police had given up."

"Is that why you do all this police stuff now? To make up for it?"

Klaus's lip twitched up ever so slightly. "No," he replied. "Nothing that simple."

He leaned forward then, reaching for the lamp by her bed and shutting it off. Caroline laid back and snuggled under the blanket.

"Well whatever the reason," Caroline said, "I think what you do is amazing. When you aren't being a jerk."

Klaus chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking to her door. He spared one last look back in her direction, watching her face in the darkness, and then turned into the hall and shut the door behind him.

* * *

****The names Ferrier and Lucy are references to characters in the original Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet**

****"I'm not your housekeeper," Caroline replied. "But just this once." -A reference to a Ms. Hudson line from Sherlock.**

****The notes about secret societies I made up. Although the three I mentioned are actual secret societies ;)**

**So I'm trying really hard to update at least once a week, cause I know you all are reading a billion fics at once and this one is a mystery so it's important to be able to remember details...I don't want things to get lost in your brains! I'd probably try to do twice a week if it wouldn't fry out me and my betas haha**

**Let me know what you think. Any thoughts and theories?**

**xoxo**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	6. A Little Blonde Distraction

**Hello all! Good to see you (I can see you actually, I'm magic like that). **

**Continued thanks for reading/reviewing/general awesome you all bring to my life. Hey Elementary fans! Who's excited to see Natalie Dormer as Irene soon? I am! :)**

**Special super thanks to my awesome betas for this chapter Kady (Klausykins) and Christine (melanoradrood). **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Caroline came downstairs the next morning, dressed for a morning run, to see Klaus seated in the living room, staring at half a dozen television screens. They were of varying sizes and shapes, ranging from flat screen to older tube television boxes.

"What is this?" She asked, sitting down on the couch to pull on her sneakers.

It looked like security video on each of the screens, all black and white and wibbly.

"Security feeds from six smoke shops around the city," Klaus answered. "Each one sells Dunhill cigarettes. Captain Saltzman had them collected and messengered over to me this morning."

Caroline noticed the heavy set of Klaus's eyes and the fact that he was still wearing the same Henley and jeans from the day before. She was unsure if Klaus coming into her room the night before had been a dream or not. Everything about the conversation they had had in the darkness of her room seemed surreal. When she woke, she thought about how the book she had been reading had been set aside and her blanket pulled over her. Klaus must have done it when he had first come into her room and found her asleep. She found herself wondering how long he had been in there, watching her sleep, before she woke up and saw him.

"Have you slept?"

"No, I finished reading Shane's book and then started watching the videos," Klaus replied, not taking his eyes away from the televisions.

Caroline let her concern about Klaus's lack of sleep pass for the moment. "And what did you think of the book?"

"We can have a literary discussion some other time, sweetheart," Klaus replied. "Right now, I'm trying to work."

Caroline shrugged and finished tying her pink trainers. "Okay, grumpy. I'll be back in thirty."

Klaus spent the entire day staring at his screens. He didn't move or acknowledge Caroline at all. Not while she made her protein shake after her run or when she sat at the table to study or when she got bored and reorganized the mismatched coffee mugs according to color. She tried to watch the video feeds with him, but it only took about ten minutes for her to get bored and give up. She didn't understand how he did just managed to stare at nothing for hours on end. It was even more baffling to her when one of the tapes finished, and he turned on the news while continuing to watch the other screens.

"The mind is a muscle and it requires exercise," he had told her. "Taking in a cataloguing different kinds of information all at once helps me exercise that muscle."

A little before seven, Caroline came back downstairs, ready to go meet Tyler for their dinner date. She stood at the dining table, switching a few items from her regular purse into the small clutch bag that matched her date outfit. Klaus was still glued to the televisions, not acknowledging the fact that she was even in the room.

"I'm going out with Tyler," Caroline said. "I should be back by nine."

Her heels thunked across the wooden floor and she smoothed down her blue dress as she headed toward the front door.

"Nine? You aren't expecting things to go well?"

"My phone is on," Caroline said ignoring him. "Call me if you need me. I'll be drug testing you when I get back."

"You should let your hair down," Klaus said from the living room, making Caroline pause. She took a few steps back and craned her head around the doorway to see him still looking at the televisions.

"How did you—"

"You always pin your hair back instead of leaving it free when you want to look your best," Klaus said. "It's a draw, of course."

Klaus continued watching the video feeds, not saying anything else. Caroline turned and continued out the door. She walked down the sidewalk in the direction of the trains, her clutch under her arm, and a warm breeze blowing through her blonde waves. She stopped, and turned toward a parked SUV with tinted windows, and pulled the two pins from her hair dropping them into her purse. Her fingers ruffled at her waves, fluffing them up and out so that they hung naturally. Satisfied, she continued on her way.

* * *

"I'm serious," Caroline said. "Fell right on my ass."

Tyler laughed, taking a sip of his wine. "And you still won?"

"Yeah, when they called my name I was shocked."

"Well, I guess that just goes to show what an amazing woman you are."

Caroline smiled from across the table and ducked her head behind her glass of water. She had just finished telling Tyler about the year she was crowned Miss Mystic Falls. It was a good memory, one that she was fond of, back before her life had gotten so complicated.

"I'm sorry that was lame," Tyler laughed. "I guess we're kind of past cheesy lines."

"Cheesy is okay, I like cheesy."

"So why did you leave Mystic Falls?" he asked.

"Just…school," Caroline shrugged. The waiter came by then to remove their empty plates. Tyler had taken her to a nice Italian restaurant downtown. It was a cute place, decorated to look like a Tuscan villa in the middle of Chicago. Strings of twinkling lights stretched across the ceiling, and murals of the Italian country side cover the walls. The tables were covered in lacy white clothes and each was set with a small tea light candle. The ambiance was romantic without being overly intimate.

Caroline took another sip of the lemon water in her glass and set it down. "I'm gonna head to the ladies room."

"Okay, did you wanna get dessert?"

"Of course," Caroline said with a dramatic nod.

"That's what I like, a girl who doesn't mind eating."

Caroline laughed, shaking her head as she stood up to go use the bathroom.

The date was going well. Tyler had told her more about his life before moving to Chicago, what high school was like, what his parents did. Caroline kept asking him questions and Tyler would gab on and on like it was nothing. He was an open book.

He was, in fact, perfect.

Tyler was perfect.

Caroline didn't like to make snap judgments about people, guys especially, but she couldn't pick out one thing wrong with him in the one and a half dates they had been on. He was nice and smart and polite and did things like open doors and pull out chairs. The southern belle in her loved that. He also had a gorgeous grin and a nice body. He was athletic and artsy and funny and nice, all of these great things rolled into one package. Butterflies weren't exactly fluttering around in her stomach, but maybe that would come with time. As far as she could tell, there was absolutely no reason why she shouldn't like Tyler.

It had been awhile since she had dated anyone. Her last boyfriend…well they met under unusual circumstances. There hadn't really been dates involved. And high school dating was an entirely different world. She realized that this was really her very first adult date.

Then another thought struck her. Would Tyler want to go home with her or take her back to his place? Did she want that? She didn't want to seem standoffish but she also didn't want to be too slutty. She'd had her fair share of sex. Did she even want to have sex with Tyler? Well, of course she wouldn't mind. He was hot, after all. But girls were supposed to hold out right? If they really liked a guy. Sex on a first date was always said to be the kiss of death in a potential relationship. This was a moment that having single, worldly girlfriends would have come in handy. Lexi was her only gal pal and she had been in a committed relationship for almost five years now. She wouldn't have any insight on dating and sex in this case.

Maybe Klaus had been right…maybe she could have used a chaperone.

Caroline stared at herself in the restroom mirror, flipping back her hair, and sucking in a calming breath.

"You can do this Forbes," she said to herself. "You've been staring at corpses and bloody murders for the past two weeks. You can handle a guy."

With that little pep talk, Caroline left the bathroom and headed back to the table. Tyler smiled at her as she sat down.

"I got us a sundae," he said. "You like chocolate?"

"I'm a woman, of course I like chocolate." Her phone, which she had left on the table top just in case, started buzzing. Normally she wouldn't have been so rude as to keep her phone out, but she wanted to have it nearby in case of emergency and she was afraid she wouldn't hear it buzz if left in her purse.

"That thing's been blowing up since you went to the bathroom," Tyler said. "I guess _Klaus_ really needs to get ahold of you."

"Sorry," Caroline said shooting him an apologetic grin. She slid the phone to answer, putting it up to her ear, and turning slightly away from Tyler. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm falling over the edge. The needle is in my hand and I'm about to take the plunge."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Didn't you ever hear the story about the man who cried wolf?"

"I saw Connor Jordan on one of the video feeds, purchasing his cigarettes at a shop on the south side. I already put the word out to Captain Saltzman. The stakeout begins tonight."

"Well that's good," Caroline said, confused about why he was calling her to tell her instead of waiting until she was home.

"Shall I meet you at the restaurant or will you want to come back to the flat first and change?"

Caroline passed a look at Tyler, who was doing a horrible impression of someone trying to look like they weren't eavesdropping.

"What are you talking about?"

"We need to get to the shop as soon as possible. We don't know when Connor will be in need of nicotine again."

"Why do you have to go? Can't the police take care of it?"

"Caroline, you're a smart girl, do you really need me to answer that?"

Without answering, Caroline hung up and turned back to Tyler.

"Everything alright?" He asked. "I heard something about police."

"Yeah everything's fine," Caroline said. "Look, Tyler it's been a good night, but I'm afraid I have to cut it short."

Tyler nodded, a little disappointed. "Alright, just let me take care of the check and I'll get you a cab."

Outside, Caroline waited on the sidewalk while Tyler flagged down a cab for her handing her a few bills to pay for it. She tried to protest, saying she would be fine on the train, but he insisted. "You won't let me take you home, but I want to make sure you get there."

"Thanks," Caroline said as Tyler opened the door. She stood next to the cab, between the seat and Tyler, his body close to hers. Caroline looked up at his brown eyes, which had softened a bit from the disappointment that had been there when she had announced the date was over. "I had a good time."

"Me too," Tyler said. "So, can we do this again?"

Caroline pressed her lips together, smiling. "I'd like that."

Caroline held her breath, seeing the slight tilt of Tyler's head, and becoming aware that he was inching closer to her. He was going in for the kiss. Her eyes went to his full mouth as his closed and she prepared herself for contact.

But they were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Caroline quickly pulled back and looked down to see Klaus texting her. A glance back up at Tyler said the moment was over.

"Sorry," she said for the billionth time.

Tyler had taken a step back from her, his hand still on the cab door. "See you in class tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"Can I pick the song now?" Caroline asked from the passenger seat next to Klaus.

They were encased inside of a nondescript police owned sedan, across the street from Floyd's Food & Liquor, the lights around rusted green sign flashed, turning their faces yellow and orange.

"You allowed me to have first pick on the radio, my song hasn't ended yet." Klaus replied, his eyes fixed on the door of the shop.

"Static isn't a song," Caroline said in answer to the low, snowy hum coming from the speakers.

"Static helps me think."

"You're watching, not thinking. It's my turn." She reached forward and clicked off the radio, pulling up the music app on her phone. Klaus groaned, shoving his elbow against the door to prop his head up in his fist.

"Please, none of that abysmal bubble-gum pop music you like to listen to while you shower."

Caroline ignored his jab, selected her recently added playlist, and turned the volume up so the music quietly filled the car. Klaus heard the song and cut a glance in her direction.

"The Velvet Underground?"

She shrugged. "I heard you playing one of their records the other day and liked it."

Caroline shifted uncomfortably in the seat. They had been sitting there for an hour now, just looking at the door and the surrounding area, waiting to see if Connor Jordan would show his face. It was a long shot. They had no idea if Connor would even come back to that shop or if they had already missed him.

Her heels had been discarded long ago, but she wished she would have been able to change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to sit all night in the car. Not exactly how she had expected her evening to end. She thought about texting Tyler and apologizing again for ducking out on their date, but thought better of it. She didn't want to have to explain why she was texting him at such a late hour. It was lucky that he hadn't pressed her about her reason for leaving so abruptly in the first place.

"How was the date?" Klaus asked, seeming to read her mind.

"You really want to talk about my date with Tyler?"

"I can't take your bored fidgeting anymore," he replied. "I'm attempting to distract you."

"You're too kind," Caroline retorted but decided to go along with it. "It was fine."

"Fine." Klaus repeated.

"Fine."

His cheeks lifted in an amused smile. "Fine. The most vague, yet the most telling of words in the English language."

"What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Know-It-All?"

Klaus took his eyes off the door and turned toward her. "You hardly seem to be giddy about the boy."

It was true. Caroline had been thinking the same thing earlier, but she wasn't willing to admit he was right. "And what do you know about all of that?"

"I _did_ have a sister."

"Did you annoy her this much about the guys she dated?"

"Even more so," Klaus said with an odd twinkle in his eye. "She used to get so angry with me. The way I could tell what her boyfriends were lying about before she had ever expected it herself. I knew which ones were moderately nice and which ones were only trying to get her into bed. She hated me for it every single time either way."

Caroline couldn't help but smile at the obvious affection Klaus had for his late sister. She wanted to ask about the details of her death-her murder-but respected his privacy. Caroline empathized with him on that level.

"What about Elijah? Did he bug her too?"

"No," Klaus replied. "He was too busy with medical school and his career to be concerned with us."

The affection in his tone when speaking about Rebekah was equaled by the bitterness it now held at the mention of Elijah.

"You really don't like your brother much do you?"

"You've met the man," Klaus said by way of explanation.

"Not really," Caroline said. "He hired me via email."

"Well then, you've talked to him more than I have over the past two years."

That was because Klaus had disappeared for two years, on some drug binge after his sister died. Not necessarily Elijah's fault that they had lost contact. But she didn't mention that. Caroline sensed the tension that had moved into the car on bringing up Klaus's older brother. She decided to change the subject. There was no telling how long that would be stuck on stakeout duty and it wouldn't help things to be in a confined space while mad at each other.

"I'm sure Tyler thinks I'm crazy now," Caroline said. "So he probably won't want to see me anyways."

"I thought you didn't want to discuss your date?"

"I didn't," Caroline said. "But I'm trying to distract _you _now. From the awkward family angst conversation that we were about to get into."

Klaus smirked again, his eyes returning to the store front. "Perhaps you could tell me all about your reign as Miss Mystic Falls," he suggested, "and how you managed to 'aspire, inspire, and perspire'—"

Caroline's jaw dropped, recognizing the quote from the essay article she had written in the Mystic Falls Chronicle for her pageant entry. "You found my Miss Mystic essay?"

"I believe you found a shortage of words that ended in 'spire'," Klaus chuckled.

Caroline laughed, shaking her head, deciding that she wouldn't kill Klaus for snooping into her life—yet. Especially since there was something rather nice about seeing him smile in the way that he was just then. A tiny sparkle in his eye, his dimples rounding out under his cheeks. It made him look boyish in a way-nothing like the hardened man she had been living with day to day.

Settling back into her seat, she launched into her story of how she became the sixty-first Miss Mystic Falls.

* * *

Caroline woke up when she felt the car lurch forward. She didn't even realize she had dozed off. Klaus was pulling the car out of the space where they had parallel parked and was driving around the corner.

"What's going on?" Caroline said. "Did you you see Connor?"

"No," Klaus replied, turning the wheel and letting it glide back into place in his hands. "CPD has sent in a group to relieve us. They've installed themselves in an empty apartment across the street."

Caroline rubbed at her eyes. "You aren't supposed to be driving."

Klaus didn't have an American driver's license, that Caroline knew.

"Relax, love," he said. "We're just heading around the corner to meet the Captain."

She stretched her arms forward and looked at the time. The clock radio said it was just after six o'clock in the morning. She had class in a couple of hours. Klaus drove a few blocks, before turning down another street and pulling into an alleyway. Caroline saw Alaric there, waiting for them.

"Morning," the Captain greeted them as they got out of the car. "The surveillance team is set up and a few officers are on standby. If Connor Jordan shows his face, we can make an arrest."

"I'll join them," Klaus replied.

Alaric shrugged. "If you want."

"Is there a train nearby?" Caroline asked, not familiar with the area. "I need to get back so I can get to class."

"I can give you a ride. My car is just down the street." Alaric offered and Caroline smiled in gratitude. Klaus headed down the alley, back in the direction of the liquor store, to the stakeout. Caroline followed Alaric to his vehicle.

"Where you headed?" He asked as he turned the key in the ignition and Caroline fastened her seatbelt.

"Two-two-one B, White Oak Lane," she said.

Alaric's eyebrows shot up. "Oh," he said. "Klaus's place."

"Mhmm," she said biting back another yawn.

"Here," Alaric said picking a cup of coffee from the holder and handing it to her. "Klaus texted and asked me to pick this up for you."

"Oh," Caroline said in surprise. "Thank you."

She accepted the warm cup and took a tentative sip. The coffee inside was just the way she liked it. The warm liquid slid down her throat, warming her insides, and waking her up a bit more.

Next to her, Alaric cleared his throat. "I didn't realize you two..."

It took Caroline a moment for the implication to hit her. "Oh, no!"

"You live together though?"

"Only temporarily. We have an...arrangement."

"Oh."

Caroline's face went red, and Alaric shifted uncomfortably. She realized she wasn't making whatever Alaric was thinking sound any better or clearer. Stupid confidentiality agreement.

"So," he said with another throat clearing, "what do you study?"

"I'm a psych student," Caroline answered, happy to move away from the subject of her relationship with Klaus.

"Oh yeah? I bet that's interesting."

"It's alright," Caroline replied. "I'm almost finished with my degree. Just one semester left."

"Any idea what you'll do after?"

Caroline stared out the window, watching a few cyclists with yellow helmets breeze by the car, their bells ringing as they passed. "Not a clue."

Alaric seemed to find that amusing. The rest of the conversation was spent discussing Caroline's schooling and how Alaric became a detective, both of them forgetting about the initial awkwardness.

"How long have you known Klaus?" Caroline asked him.

"I did some work in Scotland Yard for about a year and met him there," Alaric told her. "Then I heard from him two years later out of the blue. He said he was in Chicago and looking to take on some cases. I told him that we couldn't pay him and he said he didn't care. So I started bringing him in on stuff. It took a little while for the rest of the force to get used to that sparkling personality of his."

"Yeah," Caroline remarked, knowing just how charming Klaus could be upon first meeting him. She realized that Alaric would have begun working with Klaus not too long after Rebekah died, during what was probably the beginning of him bottoming out. Before she could think of a way to ask about it, he continued.

"Still. He's has an amazing mind. I'm glad he's back from London finally."

"London?" Caroline asked, confused.

"Yeah, he was over there for around six months, after his mother died."

"Oh yeah, his mom."

All along Caroline had assumed that Alaric knew about the whole rehab thing. She even remembered him saying something along the lines of_ I didn't know if you would be up to this stuff again._

"He's a bit of an asshole and a lot of the guys on the force don't like him much, but I figure he can't be all bad."

"Why do you say that?" Caroline asked.

"He doesn't get paid for all the help he gives. No recognition. Nothing. If that doesn't say something about him then..."

Caroline's mouth twisted. _It's not that simple. _Klaus had said it and she had known it. Consulting wasn't just a hobby for him, it was his work. But it was thankless work, and the Klaus she knew, wasn't that benevolent. At least, she thought considering the cup in her hand, not when it came to strangers.

"Well, here we are."

Alaric stopped in front of the house. The sun was now a bright spot in the sky. Caroline thanked him again for the ride and got out of the car, heading inside to shower and change before it was time for class.

* * *

Klaus stayed at the stake out a few hours longer, waiting and watching with the surveillance team. Boredom was beginning to wear on him though. The itch was crawling into his veins. The time on his cell phone told him that Caroline would just be getting to class; Alaric had texted and said that he had dropped her off. He needed to get out. He told the officers to keep him informed via text before he snuck out of the apartment and began walking down the street.

Patience was not one of his virtues and he abhorred waiting around. Not when he didn't have something else to occupying his mind. The night before he had been thinking about Professor Shane's book, Expression, Hayley, The Symbol, and how it was all connecting. The police were missing that part of the story entirely. They had no clue that they were possibly dealing with something larger than a run-of-the-mill maniac.

Of course, that train of thought had been interrupted by Caroline. Her fidgeting and constant need to chatter had thrown his concentration out the window. Her stories about growing up in Mystic Falls, organizing town events, cheerleading, high school memories had filled the space of the car until finally she dozed off. Klaus told himself that he had no interest in her mundane, small town life. His mind was like an attic, its storage space was finite. He didn't care to fill it with useless facts and mundane natterings that other people did. It was one of the biggest reasons he hated going to group therapy sessions. In spite of that, he had still listened to Caroline's story with interest. It was the way she spoke about it. The light in her eyes, the sound of her laugh, the turn of her mouth when he would make some sarcastic remark. Winding her up was more a more amusing pastime than he was willing to admit. But he needed to get back on track, and shut out the distraction. Which was how he found himself once again at Baskerville hall.

* * *

**Small bit of a cliffy there...I wonder why Klaus went to Baskerville? hmmm.**

**-Sorry for the ultra-cheesiness of adding lines from the show. I know that's at the top of some people's fanfic DON'T list. But it's my fic and I'll cheese if I want to. Plus, it's one of my favorite moments from Klaroline canon soooo :p**

**-I'm a fan of 60s-70s punk music so that's why Klaus tends to listen to it in my head canon. I think this is the second fic I've written where he's a punk fan. **

**-I'm glad that everyone seems to be enjoying the slow-burn of Klaroline. I'm always worried about boring people, cause I know we all like to indulge in the fast, cracky fanfics from time to time. Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate it :)**

**Thanks for reading everyone!**

**Follow me on tumblr at Hybridlovlies**


	7. Hello Timebomb

**Hello there! If you follow me on tumblr, you probably saw that the reason for the update delay is due to the fact that a lot of stuff that happens over the next couple chapters interweave to come to the first big climax of the story. Can stories have more than one climax? I'm doing it in the fic! Multiple climaxes ;)**

**Also it's a little shorter, because where I originally cut it off, I ended up deciding it sounded weird so I put that scene in with the next chapter.**

**A couple more notes to be found at the end, but I don't want to spoil anything by mentioning it before you read.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Hello there." Klaus greeted Hayley with a coy smirk as she opened her apartment door. Her face fell at the sight of him, her full lips turning into a distinct frown.

"What do _you_ want?"

"Yes, I _would_ like to come inside. Thank you."

Klaus pushed past the brunette and strolled into her apartment. The girl let out an annoyed huff, slamming the door and turning to follow him.

"I take it your roommates aren't home."

"Well considering one spends all her time at her boyfriend's place and the other hates me too much to actually stick around, no they aren't."

"Can't imagine why they wouldn't enjoy your uplifting company," Klaus said, tracing his fingers across the back of her couch.

He walked around the living room, picking up random objects and setting them down again. There was a glass bowl on the coffee table, a dime bag sitting nearby. The same wolf encrusted lock box Klaus had seen the night of the party was there too. Hayley stood there watching him, her arms crossed.

"So, why are you here?"

"Perhaps I'm bored," Klaus replied.

"I doubt it."

Klaus walked over to her, pulling out his phone, and holding a picture of Connor in front of Hayley's face. He saw her pupils dilate as she registered the identity on the screen, a sign of recognition.

"Friend of yours?"

"I"m guessing you already knew that," she replied.

"What's his name?" Hayley remained silent, pouting, her brown eyes full of fire. "Need I remind you sweetheart that I can always have a narcotics squad banging down your door in less than three minutes, unless you cooperate."

"Sebastian Moran," Hayley bit out. "He buys from me every now and then."

Sebastian Moran. Interesting. So Connor was using an alias. "What does he buy?"

"Heroin, usually. I'm pretty sure he buys it from me and sells it for more money though."

"Why do you say that?"

"He buys enough to knock out a horse," Hayley replied. "And, he doesn't exactly look like a heroin addict. The man is ripped. Nice body. Healthy. Unlike you..." Hayley trailed off and gave him a saucy smirk.

It fit with Grace's earlier story that Connor was not a junkie. Given his reasons for staying away from drugs, Klaus didn't wager that Connor had suddenly picked up the habit. It didn't work like that. His mind pulled forth a detail Klaus remembered reading on the autopsy reports. Each of the murder victims had tested positive for high doses of heroin. The coroner had just written it off since all of the victims were street dwellers. It wasn't too far of a leap to assume that they were all also junkies.

It was possible that Connor aka Sebastian had been pumping his victims full of heroin before killing them. Interesting.

"You know I have things to do," Hayley said, interrupting his train of thought. "Not to mention, you hanging around here all the time is bad for business. No one wants to buy from a dealer who is always getting visited by the cops."

"I'm not a cop," Klaus said.

"Could have fooled me," she replied, spinning away.

Her hips swayed as she crossed over to the breakfast bar. She leaned back against it on her elbows, causing her chest to pop out. From across the room, Klaus's eyes slid from her chest, to her eyes, a little too slowly. Hayley's lip curved into another smirk, having garnered the reaction she was looking for. Klaus stepped toward her, his movements slow, prowling.

"Well I'll leave, if you really want me to."

He stopped in front of her and Hayley pushed off the counter, standing straight in front of him. He stood almost a foot taller than her, looming over her, close enough that the edge of her breasts brushed his shirt.

"I think _you're_ the one who doesn't want to leave," Hayley purred. "Don't you have that little Barbie friend of yours to play with?"

"I believe she's currently with your friend. Tyler?" Klaus snapped back. Hayley's eye twitched and Klaus smiled, knowing he hit a nerve.

"Shut up," she growled, curling her fingers into his shirt. Klaus looked down at her knuckles.

"I keep telling Caroline, sex is one of the few vices I'm still allowed and enjoy," he said. "I find that civilized society has such an antiquated view on the entire function. It's natural, necessary, and I find it helps me keep a clear head."

"Mmmm," Hayley hummed, moving her face closer.

"I have varying tastes."

Her eyes dropped to his lips. "That's fine."

"And no rules."

She grinned. "Me neither."

"Except one." Klaus returned the smirk and wrapped his hand around hers that was still clutching at his shirt, sliding his thumb into her palm. He pulled her hand away from him and stepped back. "Never, while I'm working."

Hayley's jaw ticked, annoyed. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the assets she had been trying to show off only moments ago. "Get out."

Klaus folded his hands behind his back, a look of feigned innocence spreading across his face, and strode towards the door. "Perhaps I'll call again after the investigation has closed."

"Fuck you," Hayley spat at his back.

Klaus reached for the doorknob and tugged at it, throwing her one last look at her over his shoulder. "Not today."

* * *

"Class dismissed."

Caroline and Tyler looked over at each other with relief at Professor Shane's dismissal and started gathering their things. It had been a long lecture; one that Caroline spent most of the time yawning through. Normally during Shane's longer lectures, Caroline's would sneak onto her laptop and do some Internet browsing or online shopping while pretending to type notes. But Tyler had sat right next to her that day, so she wasn't as isolated from prying eyes, as she liked to be during class.

The two of them walked down the hall and Caroline stifled yet another yawn with the back of her hand.

"Late night last night?" Tyler asked her.

"Yeah," she said.

"What'd you end up doing after you left the restaurant?"

Last night had seemed like the longest night ever. She had completely forgotten that she had been on a date with Tyler just last evening. Even though the stakeout hadn't been that exciting, it seemed to have eclipsed all other events of the previous evening.

"Um," Caroline quickly tried to come up with an excuse. "Just checked on Klaus. He was having a little bit of a problem he needed to deal with."

"Oh," Tyler replied. "What was the problem?"

"Just-er, a thing."

"A thing? Look Caroline is there something going on with you two?"

"No!" _God_! Why did everyone keep asking that? Did they seem like a couple?

"Well I just want to make sure," Tyler said. "I like you Caroline. Maybe this is way too fast, considering we've only hung out a few times, but I'm not really into dating a lot of girls at once."

"Neither am I!" Caroline said, then laughed. "Well, _guys_ I mean."

Tyler grinned at her joke and she breathed a sigh of relief that it seemed to have made him less annoyed with her. "Okay. I just want to know if I have competition."

"No competition. Not from Klaus. I promise."

They reached the doors and walked outside. Her eyes snapped to someone walking in her direction, and she bit back a groan. He had to have the absolute worst timing in the history of the entire world.

"Good afternoon love," Klaus greeted her with a dimpled smile. "How was your class?"

"Fine," she grumbled as they stopped in front of each other.

"Tayler, good to see you again mate." Caroline shot him an annoyed look, which Klaus pretended to not see, as Tyler nodded at him. "Do you mind if I steal Caroline away? I have some business to attend to and require her assistance."

"Yeah. I'll see ya Caroline."

Tyler gave Klaus a skeptical glance, not even bothering to look at Caroline before heading off in the opposite direction. Caroline didn't even have a chance to say a goodbye before he was gone. So much for reassuring Tyler that nothing was going on. She turned back to Klaus, who was still had a smug grin on his face.

"What are you doing here? I thought you would still be at the stake out?"

"I got bored and left the surveillance team to it," Klaus replied.

The two of them turned away from the building and started walking down the street.

"What have you been doing in the meantime?"

"I paid our dear friend Hayley another visit."

"Seriously? Why?"

"To find out what she knows about Connor Jordan, which was quite a lot actually."

Klaus filled Caroline in on Hayley's knowledge of Connor's alias as well as his drug purchases. Caroline's annoyance at Klaus showing up out of nowhere disappeared as she became engrossed in the new developments of the case.

"I had Alaric search the systems for a Sebastian Moran. We found a record of a license plate registered under that name and he issued a BOLO on the number. An officer reported seeing an RV trailer with an expired plate with that number. Alaric has a team heading over there now to investigate. We're going to meet him."

"That was fast," Caroline said. "Why didn't you just go ahead? You couldn't call me on the phone and tell me where you were?"

"Battery went flat," Klaus replied, waving the device at her. "Alaric is giving us a ride."

Alaric was down the block in his unmarked car, waiting for the two of them. Klaus and Caroline climbed in the backseat and they headed over to check out Connor Jordan's trailer.

There weren't many secluded, wooded areas surrounding the city, but somehow Connor Jordan had managed to find one and park his trailer there. It made Caroline wonder how the two officers who had reported the trailer had happen to come across it. It didn't seem like a place that many they wouldn't have just had the good fortune to stumble upon.

The trailer was long, and navy blue with quite a bit of wear and tear on the exterior. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous either. Outside there was a small folding card table set up, with one chair beside it and a toolbox on top. Next to the door was a bright red cooler. The cops who had reported in had already made sure that Connor was not around, but they had been instructed not to entire the trailer.

Alaric parked the car and the three of them got out, walking carefully toward the door.

"I'll keep an eye on things out here, if you wanna take a look around inside," Alaric said to Klaus, who nodded. As Alaric turned away, Caroline noticed for the first time the gun that was strapped to his waist. A small jolt of fright hit her, but she swallowed it down and followed Klaus to the door of the trailer.

It squeaked as he opened it carefully, taking a moment to listen before stepping inside. It was messy. Papers covered the small table directly in front of them. Clothes hung haphazardly over the front seats. A small, unmade bunk was near the very back. There was a small coffee pot on the tiny kitchen counter, half full of brown liquid. Just beside it Caroline noticed a spoon, a lighter, and bag of powder. Heroin. Just as Klaus mentioned before. Her blue eyes slid over to him and she saw that his eyes were on the counter, his gaze fixed on the objects she had just seen.

Her hand went to his arm, her fingers giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Klaus," she said in a very calm, yet concerned voice.

"Here," he said shaking out of his trance, "you'll need these."

He passed her a pair of latex gloves, pulling a second set out of his back pocket and snapping them on. Caroline nodded, letting the moment pass, and took the gloves from him.

Klaus began perusing through the mess of papers on the table. Caroline watched him a few seconds more and then turned toward the kitchenette.

"What are we searching for exactly?"

"I find you usually know it when you see it," Klaus replied, picking up a hard drive and turning it over in his hand. There were a few other bits of computer hardware scattered around, but Klaus assumed it was all unimportant. If Connor was a hacker, he no doubt kept his personal laptop with him at all times, and that would be where any valuable information would be held. He took a step to the right and heard a strange click-whir sound. His eyes went wide and he froze, calling out to Caroline.

"Stop! Don't move!"

Caroline's hand stopped as she reached for a cabinet door, her heartbeat speeding up.

"What is it?"

"Stay still." Klaus's eyes moved around the trailer, and then carefully, his head. His gaze travelled down to his foot where he saw a thin, silver wire underneath his shoe. He followed it down and across the room where it hooked into a box like device installed near where Caroline was standing.

Klaus cursed his own stupidity. Apparently Connor Jordan was not only a computer genius, he was also adept at creating homemade bombs and traps. It impressed and annoyed him all at once.

"Don't touch anything else," Klaus instructed. "Don't open any more drawers or cabinets or lift anything."

"Okay," Caroline said, her back still to him.

"Look around at the floor," he continued. "Do you see any more wires?"

She kept her feet planted, looking around. About two feet away from her, in front of the bathroom, there was a small thin wire barely visible in the beams of light pooling through the trailer's cheap blinds.

"Over by the bathroom," she said to Klaus.

"Stay away from it," he said.

Caroline nodded, even though he couldn't see her. Her eyes followed the wire to the device it was hooked up to. Another wire extended from it and stopped under Klaus's foot.

"Klaus what is that?"

"It's a bomb."

"A bomb?" She squeaked.

"Yes. I'm going to need you to disarm it."

Caroline's eyes went wide. "What?"

"If I move at all the wire will trip and the device will go off," Klaus said, his voice edgy with forced patience. "I'll tell you want to do. It will be simple, I promise."

"I-I can't do this," Caroline said, her curls shaking around her face. "I've seen _The Hurt Locker_. You need like giant suits and robots and stuff for this."

"Not for this kind of bomb, sweetheart," Klaus replied. Caroline's brow furrowed and Klaus craned his neck to see her. "Look at me. I wouldn't tell you to do this if I didn't think you could."

Caroline looked into his eyes, gathering her nerves, and nodded. "Okay," she said. "What do I do?"

"Do you have your phone with you?"

"Yeah."

"Take a picture of the device, so I can get a better look at it."

Caroline did as he said, snapping a few pictures from different angles so Klaus could get a clearer idea of what kind of bomb they were dealing with. She passed her phone to him and he scrolled through the pictures. Upon closer look Klaus realized they weren't homemade bombs at all. They were military grade weapons, that he supposed Connor purchased off the black market. Connor had refashioned them into a crude, yet useful way to keep intruders out of his trailer and potentially destroy anything they might be looking for, while doing considerable damage to the intruders themselves.

"You see this wire," Klaus said pointing to the phone. "It's connected to a grenade inside this case. As soon as it's jostled, the pin is removed, and the device holding the hammer releases. It's easy enough to disarm, you just need to get inside the case. Find something you can use to unscrew the door."

"Okay," Caroline said, remembering Klaus's earlier instructions about not opening any of the drawers. How was she supposed to find a screwdriver or some other tool to open on the case? Then she remembered the toolbox outside. Telling Klaus she'd be right back, she rushed outside to search for a screwdriver. She found one and ran back into the trailer, careful of anymore trip wires. With extra care she set about unscrewing each of the four screws holding the case shut.

"Be careful when you open the case," Klaus said. "One of the grenades may fall out."

"Great," Caroline mumbled as she twisted the knife awkwardly around. She tried not to think about explosions and fiery death as she twisted the screws loose. "You know, disarming bombs was never in the job description. I think I should charge Elijah extra for this."

Klaus chuckled. "I don't disagree."

"Okay, last screw," Caroline announced, her hand holding the front of the case in place as she finished removing it. "Now what?"

"Take off the door," Klaus said. "Slowly. Got it?"

"Yeah," she sounding more confidence than she felt. "Alright, now what?"

"Can you tell which of the grenade's is hooked up to the wire I'm standing on?"

"The right one."

"I want you to slide your hand in and grip the hammer."

Caroline held her breath and did as he instructed. It was harder to squeeze than she thought it would be, her small hand doing everything it could to hold on.

"Okay."

"Okay. Don't let go."

Klaus carefully removed his foot from the wire. As expected it snapped up and dropped to the ground, the pin falling free and making a tinkling as it fell to the trailer floor. Thanks to Caroline's grip though, no explosion occurred.

"What was that?" He stepped over to her and stood in front of her. "What are you doing?"

"It's alright," he said, his voice low and steady. "Don't let go of the hammer. I want you to pull the grenade out of the case completely."

"I can't hold it much longer," she said.

"You can do it, Caroline," Klaus said. "Just hold tight and pull it out."

She yanked forward, carefully, removing the grenade from the case. The weight surprised her and she gasped, afraid she would drop it. But Klaus's hands were there, wrapping firmly around hers and helping her hold everything in place. She looked up and their eyes met. He offered her a dimpled smile, a more encouraging one than she was used to seeing from him.

"Excellent work."

"Now what?" She asked, his warm hands still clasped firmly over hers, making her feel strangely comforted.

"We're going to take it outside and get rid of it."

Caroline didn't bother with any more incredulity. She just nodded and followed Klaus's movement as the stepped toward the door, both holding onto the grenade. Alaric came around to them as they walked outside.

"What is that?"

"It seems our suspect as a penchant for booby traps," Klaus explained. "I unfortunately discovered this the hard way."

"Is that a grenade?"

"Caroline was quite lovely about defusing the situation." He smirked at his own pun which made Caroline roll her eyes. Of course he would make a joke at that moment. Klaus instructed Alaric to keep his distance and they walked further away from the trailer into the woods. He stopped them and looked around, gauging the area. His eyes finally landed on Caroline, who was doing an excellent job of holding back her obvious fear.

"When I say, you're going to drop the grenade into my hand and then run as fast as you can and duck behind the car. You'll have about four to six seconds to make it. Understood?"

"What about you?"

"I'm going to throw the grenade," Klaus said, "And then I'll be right behind you."

It seemed almost impossible but Caroline's eyes went even wider at hearing Klaus's plan. A quick breeze blew a stray curl into the middle of her eyes and she blew at it, to move it out of the way. With a deep breath she looked over at Alaric's black car, knowing that her runner's legs could carry her fast enough to it in time, but those extra couple of seconds could cost Klaus.

"Caroline," his voice brought made her turn her head back to him. "Are you ready?" She swallowed and nodded, her feet shifting from side to side as she prepared to let go and run.

"One..." he said.

"Two..."

"Three!"

In the blink of an eye the grenade fell from Caroline's hands and into Klaus's. Her legs were pumping hard as she made a mad dash for cover. Behind her, she heard the metallic snick of the hammer releasing and Klaus's grunt as he threw it as hard as he could away from them. He aimed for a mound of dirt in a larger clearing of trees, hoping to minimize the damage caused by the explosion.

Caroline felt like she was in one of those dream sequences, where she was trying to run, but her legs wouldn't work right. She knew she could run and run fast, but an invisible thickness in the air was holding her back. Each second felt like a year.

One...

Would she make it?

Two...

Was Klaus behind her?

Three...

Please let him be behind her.

At four she slid behind the cover of the car, gravel and twigs crunching under her and digging into her bare legs. Her body tensed as her arms went over her head, waiting for the sound of the explosion.

Five...

And then she heard the boom. It was loud and violent, ripping through the treed area and shattering the natural peace. At the same time she felt a pair of arms wrap over her, another body shielding her from the blast. Bits of wood and branch rained down around them.

The dust settled, birds tweeted their discontent at the upset, and Klaus unwrapped his arms from around Caroline, moving back to look at her.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her blondes waves in wild disarray around her head. Klaus reached up and brushed them away from her face with his hand.

"I'm always alright," he said giving her a slight smile.

"Good," she nodded. Her eyes flicked around as they stayed crouched on the ground, her brain trying to catching up with her body as the adrenaline flowing through her system began to subside. Her head continued to bob up and down. Klaus wrapped his hands around her arms, giving them a gentle squeeze and calling her focus back to his face.

"Hey. Hey." He said to her. "You did well."

Caroline let out a breath that was half relief, half laughter and smile. "I'm definitely charging Elijah extra for this."

* * *

**Note: I did a bit of research on bombs/gernades and the police jargon used in this chapter, but I'm sure I got things wrong. **

***Sebastian Moran (Connor's alias) is a homage to an original Sherlock Holmes, as well as BBC Sherlock. And speaking of, if you watch BBC Sherlock, now having that clue you might be able to guess where this all could be headed.**

**Seems like Klaus and Caroline are getting a little bit closer now. Near death experiences might have that effect right? We can only hope.**

**Let me know your thoughts!**

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	8. A Date with Disaster

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! As many you might have heard, I'm starting to write two fics at once. Crazy I know. BUT updates for this story will still happen every 1-2 weeks and on Tuesdays (mostly). So have know fear. It will not be forgotten!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Klaus?" Caroline walked around the first floor of the house, not seeing Klaus anywhere. She set her messenger bag and keys down on the dining table. "Klaus?"

She had gone to the library for a group study session and he wasn't supposed to leave the house while she was gone. Her head turned toward the stairs and she saw the small door underneath cracked opened. She could hear the faint sounds of music flowing through it. Slipping off her wedges, she opened the door and crouched down, stepping through. There was another set of stairs, leading down to the basement of the house.

As she walked down, the sound of the music became louder. A light was on, illuminating the cool, concrete room. When she reached the bottom step, she saw Klaus, brush in hand, standing in front of an easel. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, as he stared at the dark canvas before him. Soft sounds of opera filled the room, a change from the punk records he usually played on the upstairs record player.

Caroline walked further into the basement room, looking over his canvas, admiring the gold, yellow, and orange swirls amidst the dark background. It matched the melancholy tones of the music coming from the stereo.

"I didn't know you painted," she said approaching him.

"It keeps me occupied," Klaus replied, stepping forward and laying his brush on the canvas. "Boredom is terrible for my sobriety."

Caroline watched him for a few moments, entranced by the deft movements of his hands and the way the strokes of paint would take shape into the composition under his guidance. It was hypnotic. After a few minutes, she moved over to the brown leather chair that was near him against the wall.

"I need to talk to you about something," she said, sitting back and tucking her legs under her. She smoothed out her red flowered dress over her lap.

Klaus quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "Those words never precede something good."

"Well, we are in our third week together now," Caroline said, "which means I'll be gone in another three. I think we should consider finding you a sponsor."

"Why do I need a sponsor when I have a _companion_?"

"I am temporary. A sponsor is permanent. Someone who has also suffered through addiction and will offer you life long support, which is what you need. And I'm planning ahead. Something tells me it might take some time to find someone who can acclimate to you."

His lip curved. "Am I really that difficult, love?"

"I've had worse," Caroline said, the double note in her tone making Klaus look twice at her. "No consulting detectives though. I think I might stay away from those in the future. I'm not sure how many more near-death experiences I can handle."

"Well that shouldn't be a problem. I invented the job, I'm the only one of my kind." Klaus dipped his brush into the pallette on the stool next to him, the muscles in his shoulders dancing with the movement. "Don't count on me bonding with any of the dullards from that support group you keep on insisting I attend."

"Actually, I already had someone in mind. Not from group. An old client of a friend. Stefan Salvatore."

"Why do I feel like I'm being set up on a blind date?"

"I'm sure you could use a little bromance in your life," Caroline said with a smile.

"I _could_ use something in my life," Klaus lifted his eyebrows, tilting his head at her. "It most certainly isn't 'bromance'."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Please don't make me barf. You're having lunch with him tomorrow while I'm at class. Don't even think about backing out."

Klaus pressed his lips together and ducked his head, earning a satisfied smile from Caroline.

* * *

Klaus was a man of his word. He met Stefan Salvatore at a diner that Caroline found halfway between their homes. Of course he was only there for show. He had no intention of taking on a sponsor. Once Caroline was gone, he didn't need anyone else meddling into his affairs. It also would be easier to firmly reject the man if he actually showed up to their meeting. At least then, Caroline wouldn't be able to complain that he hadn't put in any effort.

He opened the glass door of the diner, a bell chiming overhead and signaling his entrance. A few patrons sat at the booths and tables around the diner, and a couple more at the stools in front of the counter. The kitchen could be seen through a large open window, in typical diner fashion. A tired looking chef with a yellowed and grease stained apron slid a plate of food onto the window and announced "order up". A waitress called back to the chef and then smiled in greeting to Klaus telling him to sit anywhere he liked. His eyes roamed over the vinyl booths until he spotted a young, brown haired man sitting alone toward the far end of the restaurant, one arm slung over the back of the seat. Klaus headed in his direction. He got up from the seat when he noticed him, his mouth turning up into a welcoming grin.

"Klaus, I presume?"

"Stefan Salvatore."

The two of them sized each other up and Stefan invited him to sit down in the booth. In front of Stefan was a chipped, creme color mug steaming with coffee.

"I didn't order any food," Stefan said. "I went vegan a couple of years ago and nothing on this menu looks appetizing."

Klaus somehow managed not to roll his eyes. He detested vegans, vegetarians, and all of their snobbery. Man was made to eat meat. Strike one against the Salvatore. The waitress came round and filled his cup with coffee. Klaus also decided against ordering food. It had nothing to do with the fact that not a single thing on the cheap menu appealed to his appetite either. To him, there was no reason to prolong their little "bromance" date as Caroline called it, with eating. Klaus would stay for one cup of coffee. Long enough to deduce a list of reasons for Caroline as to why this partnership would not work out.

"So Caroline tells me you're a detective," Stefan said, attempting to breaking the ice. Klaus continued to scan the diner patrons, picking out a couple seated a few booths down from them. It was a blind date, the man was looking nervous, the woman was bored, unimpressed. Klaus didn't blame her. What kind of man would bring a woman to a cheap diner during the day time? "And that you're from England?"

Klaus looked over at Stefan. He looked like a poster boy for Calvin Klein, with his pearly teeth and perfectly coiffed, yet disheveled hair. Exactly the type of boy his sister would have fallen for in a second. Klaus wagered he was probably around the same age as his sister and Caroline. He couldn't possibly fathom what she thought he and the guy sitting in front of him would have in common, other than drug addiction.

"This has been a sincere pleasure," Klaus said, not even bothering with making it through the entire cup of coffee. "But, I'm afraid I must be going."

Stefan glanced down at his watch, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Eight minutes, I guess I'm out fifty bucks."

"What do you mean?"

"Caroline bet me I couldn't keep you in the seat for more than ten minutes."

"Well I suppose that will teach you to gamble without knowing the odds," Klaus said standing. Stefan got up as well, and threw a few folded bills onto the table.

"Guess so." The two of them walked out of the diner and onto the street. "I could give you a ride if you want."

"No need," Klaus replied, turning in the opposite direction. He heard the chirp of an alarm and spun around to see Stefan approaching a very expensive looking sports car. A car that should have been well out of the Salvatore's price range, considering the cheap quality of his jeans and the brand of cologne he wore. It was a small roadster, its silver paint job gleaming in the sunlight. The car stood out on the street, next to the modest SUV's and used sedans. Klaus moved closer. "This is yours?"

"Uhh yeah. Temporarily," Stefan said. "Me and my brother used to boost cars together back in the day. I could break through any security system. Now that I've cleaned up, I've got car companies who send me new systems to try out. They figure that if I can't get into it, no one can."

Klaus ran a hand over the smooth silver surface of the car, feeling the energy of the inanimate vehicle tingling under his touch. "Mercedes-Benz SLR," he cited, staring at the hood, imagining the engine that was housed underneath. "I thought they stopped making these in 2007."

"2008," Stefan corrected. "The last of the coupes were made in 2007, but the roadster version wasn't discontinued until 2008." Stefan opened one of the suicide style doors, and Klaus watched it swing up. "It doesn't handle as well as the 722 because-"

"The extra weight from the roof," Klaus interjected. The top of the convertible was drawn up, even though it was a nice day outside.

"You're sure you don't want a ride? It's just after noon, not much traffic on the expressway...She goes 0 to 60 in 3.5."

Stefan raised his brows, a challenge to Klaus, just daring him to say no to a joyride in an expensive and rare sports car. Klaus's lip curved, wondering if Caroline had managed to plan this manipulation or if it was just dumb luck.

Stefan slipped his sunglasses over his eyes and slid into the driver's seat of the car as Klaus swung the passenger door open. He reckoned that maybe the Salvatore was worth a second shot.

* * *

Since Klaus was with Stefan, Caroline had an extra hour free after class to hang out with Tyler. They headed over to an burger place for lunch that was a popular place for students to hang out at in between classes. Tyler had been surprised when Caroline said she had never eaten there. They both ordered food, Tyler paid again, and Caroline grabbed them a table near the window. She watched the people pass by on the street, a mix of students in shorts and t-shirts and professionals in pencils skirts and suits all on their lunch breaks. There was a girl with a blue and yellow vest on attempting to stop people as they walked by and convince them to donate to whatever charity she was representing.

Caroline remembered first moving to the city, and making the mistake of signing up for too many charities and email lists and donating every time someone would ask. She felt bad saying no; and charities had been her thing in Mystic Falls. She had always done volunteer work and raised money for different programs in her home. Now that she was an experienced city girl, she knew how to avoid the charity workers and didn't feel quite as bad when she pretended to be texting or on the phone as she passed by them.

Speaking of her phone, she pulled it out of her messenger bag to check her messages. She hadn't received any calls or texts from either Stefan nor Klaus and hoped that meant things were going well with their meeting. Tyler came to the table with their food and she quickly stashed her phone in her bag again, not wanting to seem rude with it out, like she had done on their date. She had been attempting to score back the few cool-girl points she had probably lost with Tyler when she ditched him the other night, and then again when Klaus had picked her up from class.

"Any plans tonight?" He asked her from across the table.

"Just the usual," Caroline replied, taking a bite of her turkey burger. Although, she thought, the 'usual' had been redefined since she had met Klaus.

"Wanna come over to my place tonight? I could cook you dinner? Maybe watch a movie?"

Caroline shot him an impressed look. "You cook?"

"Oh yeah," Tyler replied. "PB&J, mac and cheese, frozen meals. I'm a pro." It took Caroline a moment to realize that Tyler was joking. They shared a laugh. "I'm no Mario Baltali but I can whip up a thing or two to eat."

"Okay, okay I believe you," Caroline said. "Seven to nine good for you?"

"You put a time limit on dates?" Tyler asked.

"I just don't want to be out too late. Cause of work."

"I didn't know you worked," Tyler said. "What do you do?"

"I, um..." Caroline hadn't gotten around to saying anything to Tyler about her work. She actually hadn't gotten around to saying much of anything to Tyler about herself, aside from a few casual stories about high school and growing up in Mystic Falls. She tried as hard as she could to keep people from asking any personal questions. Most of the time, it was appreciated. It made her seem like a good listener. But mostly she wanted to avoid the awkwardness or pity that always accompanied any secrets she shared about her recent past.

Her ringing phone saved her from having to think of a way to derail their conversation. She saw it was Klaus calling her and gave Tyler a quick apology smile as she answered. "Hello?"

"I'm heading over the the station," Klaus said on the other end. "Alaric called, he said since Connor doesn't seem to be making anymore appearances at his trailer, he had his team go in an excavate the area for clues. I'm going down there to look over what they've found."

"Okay I'm leaving school in like five minutes, I'll meet you there." Caroline hung up her phone and grabbed her purse. "I gotta get going," she said. "But I'll see you tonight at seven?"

"Sure," Tyler said. "I'll text you my address."

Caroline gave Tyler a goodbye hug and caught a train downtown. She walked into the police station, finding Klaus in the conference room across from Alaric's office. The blinds shifted against the door as she opened it. He was already neck deep in files and photographs.

Klaus looked over at her, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Lunch date with Tayler?"

"I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of asking how you know that," Caroline said. She stepped toward the table and looked down at the large sheets of paper spread out before Klaus. "Blueprints?"

"They were found rolled up in Connor's trailer. They belong to a handful of abandoned factories within the city limits. One of them is a plan of the building we visited last week."

She shuddered, remembering the gruesome murder scene. "So maybe with the others, you can figure out where he is going to strike next?"

"Yes," Klaus said. "But the police would much rather preempt the next murder." He folded his arms across his chest. "All this watching and waiting is getting us nowhere."

"What's that?" Caroline pointed over to a transparent storage box. The inside had been covered with newspaper, and in the center was a small tortoise.

Klaus looked over at it. "Apparently Connor was sentimental enough to keep a pet. The team brought it back from the trailer so it wouldn't die. I told them I would take it off their hands."

Caroline walked over and peaked into the box. Next to the tortoise was a small water dish with a name on it.

"Clyde," she read and then turned back to Klaus. "I didn't know you liked tortoises."

"Of course," Klaus replied. "They make an excellent stock."

Caroline wasn't sure if he was joking. She watched the little animal paw at the plastic siding, making a silent promise to save him from being cooked by Klaus, just in case. "How did it go with Stefan?"

"You're down fifty dollars," Klaus said.

"Damn," Caroline snapped her finger. "I'll take the hit though if it means you've found a sponsor?"

"There is one missing," Klaus said, scanning through the list of abandoned buildings he had comprised. "Wacker Tower."

Caroline walked over and looked at the list. "Never heard of it."

"Most people haven't," Klaus replied. "It's relatively overlooked in spite of being in a rather busy area of town."

"Maybe that's why he left it out? Because it's so populated," Caroline suggested. "All of the other murders have happened outside the city, in buildings off the freeway. Wacker Tower is right by Trump Tower. It's like, tourist overload there."

"Or maybe he's saving it for something special?"

Caroline grimmaced, imagining what a serial killer would consider a special occasion. "That's a little creepy."

Klaus smiled at her. "Welcome to my world."

* * *

Caroline sat at her computer, typing up an email to Elijah. He had contacted her asking for an update regarding Klaus's condition and recovery. She leaned back in her bed, with her computer on her knees, trying to figure out what to say. Exhaling, she placed her fingers against the black keys.

_Klaus is..._

Her mouth twisted. No words came to mind. For some niggling reason, she almost felt like anything she might say to Elijah would be a sort of betrayal of the trust built between them. But she shouldn't feel that way, not when she knew that Elijah cared about his brother and only wanted the best for him. Still...

With determination her fingers returned to the keys.

_I was first concerned with Klaus's difficult nature and worried how committed he was to his recovery. However, through my observations these past two weeks I have reevaluated my first impressions and I have every confidence that he will continue on a path of sober living he began during his time in rehab. He has made a seamless transition back into his work and life and has been regularly attending group therapy sessions. Just today he secured a sponsor to see him through his continued efforts once my work with him is done. His proclivity to independence, I think, will benefit him greatly but I have encouraged him to seek out help if he feels that he needs it. _

Her mouth twisted in consideration for a moment, and she continued typing.

_I do believe that he could benefit from more familial support. I understand that there is a lot of time and space between the both of you, but I'm certain it would help his condition greatly._

_All in all, I have great faith in Klaus and his ability to continue to overcome his addictions._

Caroline smiled. It was a good summary of her time with Klaus and her initial thoughts; general, a little forceful in the end, but it was all true to her feelings. She saved the email, deciding to give it another read through later, and set her computer aside to get ready for her dinner date with Tyler.

It was a warm night and she opted for a black halter top and jeans, instead of a dress. Some instinct told her that she would want to be wearing jeans that night and she really liked the top. It was a little sexy, with tiny jewels around the neck line and it made her boobs look really good, without seeming like she was trying too hard. Maybe she would do a little strut past Klaus, and gauge his reaction. Her face warmed as soon as she had the thought, shaking her head at herself in the mirror. Of course she didn't meant it like _that_. She just meant because Klaus had been helpful about her hair the last time she went out with Tyler. She definitely didn't care if Klaus thought she looked sexy or not. The outfit was for Tyler, not for Klaus.

Giving her waves one last fluff in the mirror, she grabbed a pair of heels and flew downstairs. Klaus was at his desk in the living room sitting in front of the computer.

"I'm going to Tyler's," Caroline said, looking into her purse to make sure she had everything she needed. She glanced up at Klaus's board in the living room. He had been busy since they had been home. The blueprint clues had been added and photos of Wacker Tower with a large question mark over them. The collage of clues was a visual representation of what was inside Klaus's head, the organized chaos all adding up and connecting in a way only he could understand. She couldn't even begin to decipher it.

"I might need to use your computer," Klaus said.

"Why is that?"

"I'm going through some old government databases looking for anything I can about Expressionists," Klaus replied. "Sometimes they get angry and upload viruses to discourage prying eyes. If my computer falls victim, I'll need access to another."

Caroline's eyes went wide. "No, no way. You are _not_ using my laptop to spy on secret government files. I mean it!" Klaus didn't answer and Caroline let out a frustrated huff. "If you can't respect my things then maybe I should just stay here."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Go. You don't need to babysit me and make sure I behave, even though that _is_ what you were hired for."

Caroline shifted from foot to foot. "You know I don't usually do this with clients," she said. "Leave them alone so much. I mean it is part of the process, gradual separation, so they don't get too clingy or dependent..."

Klaus arched an eyebrow. "You're worried about me being clingy and dependent?"

"No," she said. "I guess I just trust you more. Don't make me regret that."

Before she left she made sure Klaus had his phone on near him and told him she would be back sometime after nine.

She headed down the street toward the train, double checking the directions on her map application on the phone. Tyler had texted her his address as promised, and the map told her it would take her around twenty-five minutes to make the trip. But she knew that would only be if she hit the train at the exact moment it arrived. It was already ten to seven, which meant she was running late and cutting into her date time. She sped up, her heels clacking a hurried beat against the sidewalk.

"Hey miss!" She heard someone call to her from the street and turned to see a cabbie hanging out his window, waving to her. His brown face was shaded by a faded White Soxs cap. "Need a lift?"

"No, thanks," Caroline called back. Maybe it was cheap of her, but she would rather be twenty minutes late than spend twenty bucks on a cab.

"You sure?" He asked again. "You look like you're in a rush." The car continued to follow her, stopping at the sign on the corner. "I'm off shift anyways, heading home. Free of charge."

She stopped, a tiny prickle running down her spine. Cabbies in the city often honked at pedestrians, trying to gain their attention-as if they weren't already aware that cabs existed-however this was the first time she had ever had someone call out to her. The offer of a _free _ride though made her uneasy.

"I'm not going far," she said trying to dismiss him again, while still being as polite as she could. There was always a chance that she was overreacting.

The cabbie smiled at her and she caught a better look at his face. There was line of dark hair on his chin, curving around his mouth. For a second, there was something familiar about him. "You have a good night," he said and then sped off.

* * *

Caroline couldn't shake the weird feeling she had gotten from the cab driver. She sat, watching Tyler make dinner, and her thoughts drifted back to the moments before she had left the house and her brief conversation with Klaus. She was trying to decide if she should add anything to her Elijah email and thought about her admission of trust to Klaus just before she left. She knew deep down she wasn't just talking about the computer. No, there was something more between the lines of what she had said. She _did_ trust Klaus, which was probably stupid on her part. Her trust should only go so far with him, Caroline knew that from past experience with clients and men in general. It was the only safe way to operate. She didn't want to make the same mistakes again.

After that first week, she had told herself she wasn't going to be so lenient with him, but here she was again making exceptions. There was just something about him, something that made her want to keep giving him second chances.

Throughout the past week, she had often wondered if he really did need her. She had been thinking about it as she had composed her email to Elijah. Of course, clients would always say that they didn't need help or support, but Klaus was the first person she knew to actually make it seem true. But she knew that it was only because he was just that good of an actor. Little things alerted her to the fact that Klaus needed people in his life, even if he wasn't aware of it. She remembered the look in his eyes when he saw the heroin in Connor's trailer. His demons still plagued him. He had been tense and his eyes had held an almost feral look. The moment Caroline placed her hand on his arm, she was her letting him know that she was there. Maybe it was her support he needed and maybe it was someone else's he desired, but for now she would be there, just in case.

"Dinner is served," Tyler announced pulling her out of her thoughts of Klaus.

Caroline was seated in Tyler's apartment, on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar overlooking the kitchen. He had sat out two place settings for them. Even though the apartment was rather large and well furnished, he didn't own any sort of dining table. Other than that, it was nice for a place that belonged to a college aged guy. Instead of posters of beer and half-naked girls, everything was decorated in a palette of dark browns, tans, and greens, with nice, new furniture-nothing that looked like it was second hand or picked up in the dorm room section at a department store. Tyler had mentioned before that his parents were wealthy, but she didn't know it was wealthy enough to pay for a place like this just for their son while he went to school. The apartment was the kind of place Caroline imagined owning after she was done with school and settled into a career with a disposable income. Maybe a bit brighter though, with a few more personal touches. In other words, she could afford it around the time that she would be too old to enjoy it.

"It belongs to my uncle Mason," Tyler had explained while he gave her the short, two bed, two bath tour. That had made more sense to her. "He's never here though. He's a stunt actor so he's always travelling, on set. I maybe see him once every three or four months."

Tyler set a plate of food in front of Caroline with a proud grin. He had made chicken with fettuccine alfredo. Not the fanciest of dinners, but probably far beyond the skills of most guys his age. She smiled, and grabbed her fork.

"More wine?"

Caroline shook her head. She had let Tyler talk her into having some wine, breaking her rule, but she promised herself that she would only have one glass. He shrugged and refilled his own glass then prepared his own plate and sat down beside her.

"This is nice," Caroline said. "Thanks a lot for having me over. I really like your place."

"Thanks," Tyler replied. "I'm glad."

"So, how has your friend Hayley been?" Caroline told herself she was asking from a concerned clinical standpoint, but in truth, she was hoping maybe she could find out something that might help with the case. One thing she had noticed on Klaus's board earlier, was Hayley's name written on a post-it. She wanted to ask why it was there, but held back. There was something about that girl that just rubbed her the wrong way.

"Fine, I guess," Tyler said. "She's been in a crappy mood ever since that party, and I've been so busy with stuff I haven't really had time to check on her."

"Oh," Caroline said, twisting some noodles around her fork.

"Yeah between school stuff and trying to get you to pencil me in for dates," Tyler said making another joke about her tight schedule.

"I'm just very in demand," Caroline laughed. "Work, school-"

"You never finished telling me what you do."

Caroline waved it off. "Oh, it's not that interesting."

"Well I'm interested in you," Tyler said with a meaningful tilt of his head. "So I want to know. Seriously. I feel like I always talk about myself when I really don't know anything about you."

"What do you want to know?"

Tyler seemed to consider her question carefully before replying. "Okay," he said. "What's your favorite movie?"

Caroline released a sigh of relief, glad that the topic of conversation had become less serious. "Sixteen Candles," she replied.

"Alright," he said. "John Hughes. I like that."

"What about you?"

* * *

As predicted, Klaus's computer crashed. He wondered this time, if his machine would even be salvageable. It wasn't the first time he had attempted to hack into government secrets and it wouldn't be the last. If they really didn't want certain things to be found out, they wouldn't file all of those 'eyes-only' type secrets electronically. The only way to keep a secret truly hidden was to keep it to oneself. The mind was the only safe place to hide things.

Klaus shuffled upstairs to Caroline's room, ignoring her earlier warning of not using her computer, and plucked her laptop from her bed. The flowery scent of her perfume floated into the air as he dropped down onto her stacked mattresses. Klaus had begun to notice the feminine fragrances that had started to flow down from the upstairs to, where Caroline had been residing for the past two weeks, to the rest of the the house. Lavenders and vanillas were what she seemed to favor.

He clicked a random key and the sleepy computer came to life. If her computer shut down, he would just tell her that it had all been in aid to the investigation, helping to prevent murders and save lives and all of that. She had the heart of a saint, she would begrudgingly sacrifice her computer if it meant potentially contributing to the myth that was the greater good. And of course, he would buy her a new one.

His eyes hit the screen, seeing her email account pulled up, and was about to close it when something caught his eye. It was his name. His eyes narrowed and he read the email draft, which he noticed was addressed to Elijah. Something in him flared, knowing that Elijah and Caroline were discussing him, but then he realized it shouldn't come as a surprise. Caroline was an employee of Elijah's, hired to make sure Klaus was staying in line with his sobriety. He reminded her of that all the time. He reminded himself of that all the time.

_All in all I have great faith in Klaus..._

He read the sentence once, twice then read the entire email top to bottom.

_I trust you. Don't make me regret that._

The doorbell rang downstairs and Klaus looked up from the computer. He set it aside and made his way to the front door to greet his visitor. He opened the door and took in the tall man standing on his front steps, a Sox's cap tilted over his visitor's face.

"Connor Jordan," Klaus said with a casual lift of his lips. "I was wondering when you would come for me."

* * *

**And here comes the show down!**

**For non-Elementary fans, I'm sure the whole Clyde thing seems a bit random, but I just had to add him in. He'll be making small cameos throughout. That little diva. ;)**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this one. Let me know your thoughts!**

**Follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	9. Kill the Messenger

**Hello! Welcome to random Sunday update :)**

**For those of you who are concerned that I will be abandoning this fic in favor of my Timeless sequel (Changeless)...DO NOT FEAR. I'm still going along with this fic. I'll be alternating update weeks for the most part. So expect TMU every other week :)**

**thanks to Kady (klausykins) for betaing and welcome back to Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction) on this chapter! She's been busy, and I'm glad to have her back in my fic writing life.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The talk of favorite things eventually led back around to Tyler, and his aspirations to draw and write comic books. Dinner was finished, the dishes laying in the sink. Caroline was standing in front of Tyler's bookshelf as he showed her some of his favorite comic artists. It was hard to grasp how a guy who used to be the A-Typical high school jock could be so nerdy over comic books. The way his eyes lit up and his fingers caressed the pages made her giggle.

She took a seat on his green couch and Tyler handed her another small comic book. She opened it up, flipping through the pages and admiring the bright colors and artwork.

"That's one of mine," he said, ducking his head.

Caroline looked up at him. "You did this?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It started out as a class project but then I just kept going with it."

"Wow," she said, her finger tracing over the panels. "This is amazing."

"It's alright," he replied with a shrug. "It was good practice."

Once again Tyler had impressed her. She looked over at him again to see him staring at her. This was it. This was the moment. They were back where they had been outside the restaurant, Caroline about to get into the cab, and Tyler weighing his options about saying goodnight. But this time she had put her phone on silent so there was no chance of distraction. Tyler leaned forward, and gently placed his lips against hers. His kiss was warm and sweet, just like him. After a moment, he tilted his head and slipped a hand behind her neck, pulling her closer. Caroline responded in kind, placing her palm on his arm. Their lips moved together in a slow dance, heads turning to and fro in perfect rhythm.

Tyler pulled away with a sigh, glancing at the clock on the stereo by his bookshelf.

"It's almost nine," he said, brushing his hand across her face. "Are you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something soon?"

She giggled. "No," she said, pulling her lip between her teeth. "Maybe I could stay a bit longer."

"I'd like that," Tyler grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Tyler leaned in and captured her lips again. Caroline smiled as he kissed her, enjoying again the way his lips felt. It still wasn't butterflies and fireworks, but it was nice kissing. Before things got too heated, she pulled away.

"I just need to make a call really quick, okay?"

"Okay," Tyler said settling back. "I'll finish cleaning up dinner and then we can meet back here?"

"Sounds like a good plan."

Caroline stood up from the couch and grabbed her purse, heading into Tyler's guest bath. She rummaged around in the bottom of her bag, finding a tin of Altoids and popping one into her mouth. Maybe it was a little late, since they had already been locking lips for a while now, but better late than never. Next she pulled out her phone and dialed Klaus, just to let him know that she would be staying at Tyler's a little later than she had originally planned. She imagined him making some sarcastic, sexual joke and pre-emptively rolled her eyes at his likely responses.

The phone rang four times and went to voicemail. She hung up and dialed again. He was probably so engrossed in what he was doing, as usual, he didn't realize his phone was ringing. She knew he didn't have it on silent, in fact she made sure of it before she left the house. Again, the phone went to voicemail.

_Third time was supposed to be a charm right?_ She thought as she dialed once more. It wasn't. This time she left a message.

"Klaus! Answer the phone or call me back A-S-A-P!"

She pressed the end call button hard and dropped her arms to her sides. So Klaus wasn't answering his phone. It could be nothing. He could just be in the shower or something, unable to answer and would call her back when he was out. There was no need to jump to conclusions. Caroline nodded at her reflection. She would wait ten minutes and if he didn't call her back by then...

* * *

They drove into the city, over the river, and into the forest of skyscrapers that stretched up into the sky. Klaus was seated in the backseat of a cab, with Connor in the front, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror every so often.

"I'm sure this is a good cover," Klaus said. "Not many people notice a cabbie."

"It gives me a good vantage point of the city," Conner replied.

The man didn't seem to have any sense of humor about the situation. His mouth was tucked into a firm frown, his dark eyebrows permanently furrowed. He gassed it over the bridge and let the car slide back onto the road. The area they were in was quiet even though it was the middle of the city. During the daytime it would be filled with people in their suits and ties, briefcases in hand, phones at their ears, all hustling to work. But when the five o'clock whistle rang, this section of Chicago became a ghost town. Connor pulled into a parking garage and shut off the engine.

"We're here," he said getting out and heading around to open Klaus's door.

Klaus's hands were bound at the wrist. Even though he had gone willingly, it was at Connor's insistence that he be restrained in some way.

"And where is _here_ exactly?" Klaus asked as he stepped out of the car.

Connor shut the door. "You know every street and building in the city. You know where we are."

Klaus's mouth twisted into an amused grin. "I do."

Connor didn't return his amusement. He spun on his heels and began walking out of the garage, heading towards the abandoned building across the street. Klaus followed behind him. Connor led them around the building to a side entrance and opened the door without any trouble. As Klaus waited, he stretched his neck up to look at the seventeen story skyscraper, looming over him in the night sky.

"Come on," Connor barked holding the door open.

Klaus stepped inside. In spite of being abandoned, the building still shined like new. The marble floors gleamed in the pockets of moonlight peeking through the curtained windows, chandeliers hung intact, and the walls held sturdy and still. The abandoned tower was every bit the piece of art deco glory it had been when it was first erected. Not a scratch or dent to be seen, and yet it lay there lost, forgotten, abandoned, and in its prime, but completely given up on.

Connor strode past the concierge desk. Behind it were block letters attached to the wall spelling out, "Wacker Tower". Klaus admired the old splendor of the building, trailing a finger over the dust covered desk as he followed Connor over to the elevators and watched him punch the button. A triangle light lit up over the lift doors, next to the engraved words "this car up."

"They keep the electricity on in here," he commented as the doors slid open. "After you."

"How fortunate."

Klaus strolled in with Connor behind him. The other man punched the number twelve and the elevator began ascending.

"So what happens now?" Klaus asked.

"I thought that was obvious?"

"You're not going to kill me."

"Are you so smart that you know what I'm going to do?" Connor's deep voice rumbled.

"I know that you aren't the one who kills your victims," Klaus said. "You're just a foot soldier."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Connor turned to Klaus and stared him straight in the eye. He was a large man, taller than Klaus, and more broad in the chest and shoulders. His pronounced glare and set of his jaw was a default expression, a mask developed from years of dealing with gangs and learning to hide fear. Connor's hand moved to his back pocket and Klaus watched him pull out a large pocket knife. He flipped it open, the blade catching the light of the elevator as he twisted it in his hand. Klaus stood still, watching him step toward him.

Connor grabbed at his and a slashed with the knife, cutting the zip ties that bound him and letting his wrists fall free.

"Come on," Connor said gesturing with the tip of the knife. "I'll tell you all about being a foot soldier."

* * *

"Hey everything okay?"

Tyler looked concerned as Caroline stepped out of the bathroom and walked quickly into the living room. She had been in there for more than ten minutes. The dishes were done, dinner cleaned up, and Tyler had taken the break enhance the romantic mood with dimmer lighting and some low, sultry music on the stereo.

Caroline didn't notice any of it though. She was too worried. Klaus still had not called or texted her back. She had to get back to 221B immediately and check on him. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, but she was already mentally berating herself for trusting him so much. If he had fallen off the wagon, part of it would be her fault, too. She shouldn't have been spending so much time away from him. Deep down, she knew that she hadn't been as committed as she normally was to a client. But Klaus was different than her other clients. She couldn't say how, but he just was. She had thought...

"Tyler I'm sorry, I have to go."

She shouldered her purse and crossed toward the door.

"Of course you do," Tyler said. "Any time I let you out of my sight for more than thirty seconds, you have to leave."

The acid in Tyler's voice made her pause, and turn around to face him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's an emergency."

His jaw tightened and he looked away for a moment before looking back at her. "Let me guess...Klaus?"

Caroline didn't want to lie. "Yeah, I just need..."

"Look Caroline, I'm tired of being jerked around. I asked you point blank if there was something going on with you two and you said no. And I believed you. I don't know why you keep hanging out with me if you're just going to keep running back to him."

"Tyler it's not like that-"

"Then what is it like?" His voice was an almost shout. "Tell me what it _is_ like. Do you even like me Caroline?"

Her shoulders dropped under the guilt she felt. "Yes, of course."

"Then tell me what the hell is going on. Let me in a little. You're so evasive about everything...I feel like I'm this lame, needy girl," Tyler sighed. "Just tell me why you're always running off to check on Klaus."

Caroline took a deep breath. She didn't have time to be placating Tyler, but she did owe it to him to be honest. She had been jerking him around, trying to decide how she might feel about him while he apparently was already decided on her. It was unfair. "I work as a sober companion. Klaus is my current client."

"What's a sober companion?"

"I live with addicts on a temporary basis when they first get out of rehab to help them with their transitions back into normal society," Caroline explained. "It's how I make a living and pay for school."

"So what, Klaus is like a drug addict?"

Caroline nodded, taking a step back toward him. "I've been living with him for the past couple weeks. I'm supposed to pretty much be with him 24/7."

"I guess that explains why you always have to pencil me in for dates," he replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Why didn't you just tell me before?"

"There's sort of this whole confidentiality thing involved."

"What am I, some sort of gossip queen?" Tyler took a step toward her. "So how long are you doing this sober companion thing for?"

"I just started week three with Klaus," Caroline answered.

Tyler nodded. "This whole companion thing seems pretty important to you."

"It is."

"Well, how about this," he said. "You give me a call when you're done being Klaus's sober companion, and we'll see where we're at. I mean it when I say I like you, but I can't say that I haven't noticed you've been distracted every time we hang out."

"I'm sorry," Caroline said again, but Tyler shook his head.

"Don't be sorry. I'm just glad it's not another guy...at least, not in the way I was thinking."

Caroline's lips twisted into a half smile.

"Thank you," she sighed, appreciating his compassion. Caroline leaned forward and gave Tyler a kiss on the cheek. When she pulled back he offered her one of his sweet smiles.

"Go deal with Klaus. I'll see you at school."

"See you at school," Caroline repeated, before turning and heading out the door. Her mind was back on Klaus and his whereabouts as soon as she shut the door. She ran out of Tyler's building and hailed a cab back to Klaus's place, all the while sending him text messages.

* * *

"So, now that you have me here, what do you plan on doing with me?" Klaus asked. "If you aren't going to kill me."

The floor they had settled on was different from the rest of the building. On the other floors there would be office suites, unlike this open area, filled with rows of long tables and chairs. It was meant to serve as a lounge or cafeteria for all of the offices and business within the building. The windows wrapped around the room, offering an open view of the other skyscrapers around them. It was all close enough that someone in an opposite building could see them, but at that time of night everything would be empty.

A buzzing noise echoed through the quiet room, coming from Connor's pocket. He fished out Klaus's cell phone and looked down at the screen.

"Caroline," Connor read from the screen. It was a text. "This woman has been calling and texting you non-stop. Who is she?"

"Old girlfriend," Klaus replied cooly. "You know how it is with clingy women?"

Connor opened the text and read it. "_Where are you? Please answer me._ Well, what shall we say to Caroline to allay her worries about you?"

Klaus pretended to think on the matter. "Tell her I popped down to the police station, and to enjoy some extra time with Tyler. I'll be fine."

Connor typed the message and pressed send. Shutting the phone off and putting it back in his pocket.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He gestured for Klaus to take a seat at one of the long tables and then sat across from him.

"Tell me," Klaus said. "How does a computer hacker make the leap to headhunting for a serial killer? In my experience it's a rather unusual career move."

"I've been doing this for months now. Undetected, and then you come along-"

"I come along and put a chink in the plans," Klaus finished with a proud grin. "So now it's time to get rid of me."

"Once you're gone," Connor said. "I can continue."

"But you don't want to."

"I don't?"

"Not really," Klaus replied.

"And what makes you say that?"

"You choose your victims not randomly, as you would have the police believe, but by how much of a ripple their deaths would cause," Klaus said. "You choose people without families, friends, loved ones-"

"Easier to cover my tracks that way."

"And then you shoot them full of heroin to dull their senses so they don't feel any pain when the time comes."

Connor's jaw tightened, and Klaus knew he was on the mark.

"So I'll ask you again...how did a man, a loving father, husband, reformed gang member who is a right and proper genius decide that he was going to become involved in the fine art of killing?"

Connor held his gaze for a moment, and then busted out into a low and rumbling laugh. "'The fine art of killing'," Connor repeated. "Now that's an interesting choice of words."

Klaus's eyes narrowed. "Is it?"

Connor leaned back in the seat and slipped a hand into the inside pocket of the jacket he was wearing, discovering that the object he had been searching for wasn't there. His body tensed, and he patted his other pockets, searching them.

"Missing something?" Klaus asked.

* * *

"Klaus!" Caroline burst through the front door, running into the living room. "Klaus!"

She saw his computer screen was black and rushed to his bedroom, but he wasn't there either. She checked in the basement, the bathrooms, the other bedrooms upstairs, but she didn't see him. After looking around the house, she found herself back in the living room, unsure of how to proceed.

Was this it? Was he really gone?

She glanced at the computer screen again and walked over to it, mashing her finger against the power button. The machine was plugged in, but nothing happened. Maybe it was like he said...maybe it crashed and he had just gone out for a new one. That didn't add up, though. If that were the case, he would have just texted her and told her.

Not to mention...the front door had been opened when she arrived. Klaus was gone, but he hadn't locked up. She walked over and looked for signs of forced entry that she had missed, but didn't see anything. Her gaze trailed down to the floor and next to the welcome mat she saw a tiny red and gold box. Caroline walked over and crouched down next to it, picking it up off the floor.

"Dunhills?"

A loud knock made her jump up.

"Caroline?" The voice said on the other side. "It's Captain Saltzman, are you there?"

Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. She had called the station on the way back in case Klaus was there and when it was confirmed that he wasn't, she had a message sent to the Captain that she needed his assistance at 221B.

"Alaric," she said opening the door and letting him in.

"What's going on?" Alaric said walking inside and stopping near the stairs. "You said you might be in some trouble with Klaus?"

Caroline took a deep breath. Apparently she was going zero for two in the confidentiality department that night.

"Look I have to be honest," Caroline said. "Klaus and I aren't together or whatever it was that you were thinking. He's a recovering addict and I was hired as his sober companion to help him transition once he got out of rehab."

"Well I don't know why you guys didn't just tell me this," Alaric said. Caroline gave him a confused look. "I mean come on, I've been with the CPD for over a decade, I know what an addict looks like when I see him."

"I called you because I thought he might have relapsed," Caroline continued. "I was out tonight and we aren't supposed to be apart for more than two hours and he's never supposed to be out of contact. I tried calling him to check in, but I can't reach him."

"How long has he been out of touch?"

"I don't know," Caroline said, raising a hand to her head. "About an hour?"

"Maybe he just went out and left his phone here?"

"No he's supposed to tell me if he goes out. And his phone isn't anywhere," she was frantic. "I think something else happened."

"Like what?"

Just then Caroline's phone chimed in her purse. She ran over to the table where she had dropped it and pulled it out.

"Klaus," she said seeing his name on the screen. He had texted her. She read it out loud. "Running down to the station. Enjoy some extra time with Tyler."

"See he's fine," Alaric said. "We probably just missed him."

Caroline shook her head. "No, no way this is Klaus. It's Connor Jordan."

"Connor Jordan? Why do you say that?"

"Because for one Klaus hasn't called Tyler by his correct name _once_ since he's met him and two," Caroline held up the pack of cigarettes, "These."

Alaric stepped forward and took the Dunhills from her. "Well if he's with Connor Jordan, then where are they?"

Caroline's mouth twisted in thought. Then it dawned on her, she quickly slid her phone into the pocket of her jeans, thanking her instincts about not wearing the dress, and headed toward the door. Alaric followed behind and she charged down the steps and to his unmarked cruiser, parked at the curb.

"Where are you going?"

"I know where they are," Caroline said. "So call for backup or whatever police thing you have to do."

Alaric unlocked the car and they both got in. He reached for the radio. "And where are we going?"

"68 East Wacker Place," Caroline said. "The Wacker Tower."

* * *

Connor gave him a long look. "You think you're smart don't you?"

"I know I am."

"We'll see if it keeps you from getting your throat cut when this is over."

"Hasn't failed me yet," Klaus pushed his chair back and kicked his feet up on the table, folding his hands together across his chest. "I expect you made good money with your digital spying, it wasn't the most legitimate means of supporting a family, but it was less dangerous than what you were doing before. But then your wife pulled rank on you, and told you to clean up your act or get out of their lives, so you did. You found yourself a proper job and gave up the hacking and anything else illegitimate. Until recently. You discovered there was more money to made, the kind of money no one would see in computer hacking, or in gangs, or even drug dealing. Kill for hire. Each body you provide for your boss brings a hefty sum, which you then deposit straight into your wife and daughter's hands, that's how it works correct?"

Connor nodded once.

"What changed?"

"Aneurysm," he answered, tapping the side of his shaved head. "Right here. Any second could be my last."

"Dead man walking."

"After I went legit, I tried making money driving cabs, but as you know there isn't a lot of benefit in that for my family after I'm gone," Connor said. "I'm not leaving my daughter with nothing."

"But you're alright with her knowing that her father was a serial murderer?"

"As you said, I don't make the kills."

"No," Klaus replied, "But you are going to take the fall for them."

"Once you're dead, I can make that go away," Connor said. "I do what I have to, to protect my family. Those people don't suffer, I make sure of it. No one cares about them anyways. They're nothing, barely even human anymore. Their lives are nothing. If their death means that Lucy and her mother will be alright once I'm gone, then I'm willing to do what it takes."

Klaus looked at the determination in the man's eye. It was a look that said he had long since had the chance to examine the choices in his life. Connor had taken the course of action that he thought best. Klaus could not fault him for that.

"Then you aren't really committed to the cause," he said breaking the silence. "Not a true child of Expression. I'm sure your _sponsor_ isn't thrilled about that."

"That's what tonight is about," Connor said. "Killing you to prove myself."

"And yet killing me still doesn't break your pattern."

"I've been following you around for a week now," Connor said. "No friends, no family, just your job to care about and even the people you work around don't seem to give much of a shit." Klaus gave him a sad smile. Just like all the homeless lambs he had led to the slaughter before, Klaus was no different. "There is that blonde girl, is she the one who keeps calling you?"

"She's an employee," Klaus replied. "Nothing more."

"Funny, she seems almost as isolated as you are," Connor said. "No friends, no

relatives, no one else around. Maybe once I finish with you I'll go back to your apartment and give her a visit. Then Silas will have no reason to doubt me."

Klaus sat forward. "Silas?"

Connor's eyes went wide, realizing the secret he let slip. "Enough of this," he growled. "It's time for you to die."

* * *

Alaric's black cruiser pulled up in front of the building and Caroline leapt out just as it stopped, heading for the door. Alaric jumped out of the car and darted after her, catching her by the arm as she reached the front door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Alaric said pulling her away as she yanked repeatedly at the handle. "You can't just go barging in there."

Caroline let him pull her away from the door. "How do we get in?"

"There might be another open entrance around the building somewhere, we'll check them out," Alaric pulled the handgun from the holster around his waist and held it up. He gave Caroline a pointed look. "Stay behind me and stay quiet."

Caroline nodded and followed him around the building. Alaric kept close to the walls and shadows, his eyes watchful, his gun at the ready. Caroline too was looking out for Connor or Klaus or anyone else that might be around. Down the alley next the building, she saw a green dumpster, and beside it a door opened just slightly.

"Look," Caroline said rushing forward. Alaric's hand shot out and snatched her back.

"Hey what did I say?" he snapped at her. "If you're going to keep running off, I'll make you go wait in the cruiser."

Caroline let out a frustrated huff and Alaric turned toward the door. He opened it up, walking in and checking the sides and corners for anyone who might be waiting to ambush them. When he was clear, he waved Caroline inside. They walked down the quiet hallway. Alaric lifted a finger to his lips then twirled it in the air, signaling to Caroline that she should keep quiet and look out for any trouble. She nodded in understanding and continued to follow him, one eye constantly looking over her shoulder as she did her best to keep her heels quiet on the cool, marble flooring.

They passed through the lobby, still no sign of Klaus or Connor. Alaric walked by the concierge desk and toward the elevators. Caroline looked at the desk top, noticing an odd line traced neatly in the dust. The sound of the elevator bell snapped her attention back to Alaric and he waved her forward and into the lift.

"I'm not even sure where to begin," Alaric said, dropping his stance for a moment as the doors slid closed.

Caroline had the same thought. They could check every floor, but that would take time, and what if they were too late. She looked down at the buttons and noticed a black smudge covering the button marked "12".

"Twelfth floor," Caroline said. "They're on the twelfth floor."

"How do you know?"

Klaus was leaving clues for her. He had made sure the text that Connor sent said Tyler's name instead of "Tayler", he had nicked the pack of Dunhills and left them laying on the floor for her to find, and now he had found a way for her to know where they were in the building.

Her finger went to the button.

"Wait," Alaric said. "We don't know where they are, we can't just ride the elevator to that floor and pop up right in front of them. We'll go to eleven and hit the stairs."

Caroline nodded, realizing she hadn't even considered the element of surprise, and pushed "11". The elevator started up and Caroline tried not to picture what might be happening to Klaus at that moment. She hoped it wasn't anything too terrible. She also hoped that whatever it was, they weren't too late.

The ride up took an eternity, but the elevator dinged at eleven and Alaric held his gun up, once again taking the lead. Fire exit signs near the ceiling guided them down the hall to the stairwell and they started up to twelve. Caroline could feel her heart beating in her chest, knowing that Connor and Klaus were nearby. She found herself wishing she knew what they were supposed to do next.

The door to the stairwell opened on the twelfth floor away from the full view of the rest of the room. It was a lucky stroke for them, allowing them to still sneak around. Alaric pressed the door with his free hand, slow and careful to not make a noise. As it opened, Caroline heard muffled voices coming from inside the large room, one of them belonging to Klaus. The normal sound of his voice made her sigh in relief. She shared a look with Alaric as they pressed up against the wall, listening to the conversation.

"I do what I have to, to protect my family," Connor was saying. "Those people don't suffer, I make sure of it. No one cares about them anyways. They're nothing, barely even human anymore. Their lives are nothing. If their deaths mean that Lucy and her mother will be alright once I'm gone, then I'm willing to do what it takes."

Alaric peeked around the corner, getting a good look at the scene. He turned his head back to Caroline and whispered to her.

"There's another staircase on the other side of the room," he said to her. "I'm going to go out into the hall and radio and find out where our backup is and then get a clear shot at Connor from the other side just in case. You stay behind this wall and keep out of sight."

Alaric's brow wrinkled meaningfully at his last command, his bangs falling onto his forehead. Caroline licked her lips and nodded as Alaric left through the door they had entered and took off down the stairs. She let out a slow breath, feeling less safe than she did before, and turned her attention back to the conversation happening between Klaus and Connor.

"That's what tonight is about," she heard Connor say. "Killing you to prove myself."

"And yet killing me still doesn't break your pattern."

"I've been following you around for a week now. No friends, no family, just your job to care about and even the people you work around don't seem to give much of a shit," Connor paused. "There is that blonde girl, is she the one who keeps calling you?"

Caroline's breath caught. He was talking about her. Connor knew about her. Had seen her.

"She's an employee," Klaus answered. "Nothing more."

"Funny, she seems almost as isolated as you are. No friends, no relatives, no one else around her but you." Caroline hugged her arms around her stomach, leaning against the wall, Connor's assumptions about her striking a chord in her heart. "Maybe once I finish with you I'll go back to your apartment and give her a visit. Then Silas will have no reason to doubt me."

"Silas?"

Caroline mouthed the name as Klaus repeated it.

"Enough of this," she heard Connor growl. "It's time for you to die."

Caroline's eyes went wide. Where was Alaric? She peeked around the corner to try and spot Alaric but she didn't seem him. Connor and Klaus were just visible at a table in the center of the room. She saw Connor reach into his jacket and pull out a gun, taking aim at Klaus.

Damn Alaric's instructions! He wasn't back yet and she had to act fast. Caroline darted out from behind the wall and ran out into the center of the room.

"Wait!' she yelled, coming to a halt when Connor pointed the gun at her.

Klaus turned to look back at her, his expression unreadable.

"Just an employee?" Connor laughed. "She might deserve a raise."

"I'll give it some thought," Klaus responded, stepping in front of the path of the gun. "When we make it out of here."

Connor squared his jaw and gripped the trigger. Caroline stepped forward.

"Stay where you are girl," Connor said. "There's nothing you can do for him."

She heard the sound of the gun cocking. Her hands shook at her side, helpless, not sure what to do. She couldn't stand there and watch Klaus get shot, out of all the things she had seen over the past two weeks, that was the one thing she knew she wouldn't be able to stand. She took another half step forward.

"I said don't move," Connor shifted his stance.

"Drop your weapon!"

Caroline's head snapped in the direction of Alaric's voice coming from the other side of the room. His gun was up and he was approaching the three of them slowly, his aim trained on Connor.

"I said drop the gun," Alaric repeated. "It's done, Jordan. I've got half of the Chicago PD downstairs waiting to take you in."

Connor sneered at Alaric, his eyes going back to Klaus for a brief moment before he dropped the gun to the floor. Alaric made his move toward Connor, reaching for him and pulling his wrists behind his back, slapping a pair of cuffs on him.

Connor looked at Klaus. "You think you've won?"

"I know I've won," Klaus said.

"That's what you're about, isn't it?" Klaus didn't respond. "For you, that's all there is. Winning and losing." Connor's eyes flicked behind Klaus, to where Caroline was standing. A slow, knowing smile spread across the killer's face. "If you think _this_ is the game, then you've already lost."

"That's enough," Alaric said jerking him forward. "You _do_ have the right to remain silent."

Alaric pulled Connor toward the elevators, leaving Klaus and Caroline alone for the moment.

"What is that all about?" Caroline asked.

Klaus turned toward her, looking down at her furrowed brow, three wrinkles of confusion appearing on her forehead. "Arresting Connor Jordan doesn't mean the killing will stop," Klaus answered. "There will be someone to take up where he failed."

Caroline watched him walk away, staring at his back as he went to the elevator. They rode down with Alaric and Connor. As promised, the Chicago PD was downstairs, cars waiting in the street to bring Connor to the station. This time, they left through the front doors of the building. Klaus held the door for Caroline as they walked out, the two of them falling behind Alaric and Connor.

"I see you were able to follow my clues tonight," Klaus said. "The only variable I was concerned about is whether or not you would be staying the night at Tyler's."

"Oh, you finally learned his name?" Caroline quipped, their mood lightening. "You make it sound like you orchestrated this entire thing. Getting me out of the house, Connor coming over while I was gone, the little coincidences that all lined up allowing you to leave me those clues."

"Of course I planned it all," Klaus replied.

Caroline laughed, her blonde waves shaking around her head.

The tinkling sound of her laughter was interrupted when two shots rang out through the air. Klaus lunged for Caroline as she ducked down, shielding her from harm. The police surrounding them reacted, seeking cover behind their cars and doors, drawing their guns and trying to find the source of the shooting. No other bullets sounded.

Klaus felt a jolt of panic run through him as he spun around and saw Connor on the ground next to Alaric laying face down. He kept low, rushing over to him and turning him over. Connor coughed, spitting blood. Klaus looked down and saw two bleeding wounds in the man's chest where the bullets had found their mark.

Klaus looked at Connor's expression, it was calm, unsurprised even as his face twisted in pain.

"Who is Silas?" Klaus asked shaking Connor to keep him conscious for a few more seconds. "Tell me!"

Connor opened his mouth, but no words came. Klaus would never know if he meant to tell him, or only wanted to bite out one last scathing remark before he met his end. Before he could speak, his eyes glazed and his breathing stopped. A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth and Klaus dropped him back onto the asphalt. Connor Jordan was dead.

* * *

Klaus sat at his desk in the living room, a single desk lamp glowing orange over him. His eyes were fixed on the black, heavy laptop in front of him. The grandfather clock, ticking on the wall behind him, chimed as another hour turned. He sat back in the chair, his elbows slung over the arms, his fingers steepled under his chin, contemplating the screen.

A noise came from the top of the stairs. He heard Caroline's bedroom door open, and her feet padding across the wooden floor. The steps protested her movements as she made her way to the bottom.

"Hey," she said as she came around the corner and saw him, her voice soft. "Still awake?"

Klaus nodded. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied. "I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

Klaus waved a non-committal hand and Caroline turned toward the kitchen. A few moments later, she returned to where he was, two cups of tea in her hands. She set them down on the desk and walked over to pull and extra chair closer to where he was sitting. Caroline lowered herself into the seat and took her tea in both hands, letting the steam from the cup brush her face.

"What are you looking at?"

"Connor Jordan's laptop," Klaus said sitting up in his chair. "I swiped it from the cab before the police got to it."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think they might be interested in having it?"

"I'll give it to them when I'm finished," Klaus replied. "They wouldn't know what to look for anyways."

"And what are you looking for?" Klaus didn't answer and Caroline sighed. "Let me guess…you'll know it when you find it?"

His lips curled into a grin. "Precisely."

She let out a little snort and sipped her tea. It was still hot, but the chamomile was soothing.

"It's not really over yet, is it?" she asked. "Just because Connor is dead…there will be other Expressionists or whatever, right? And that Silas guy."

"You heard that part?"

"Yeah, who do you think that is?"

Klaus didn't know. All the clues that had collected had led them to Connor, but there was nothing about Silas. It was what he had been looking for in Connor's laptop. Anything that might lead to Silas, whomever Silas might be.

"I keep thinking about Connor's daughter, Lucy," Caroline said. Klaus didn't respond. He turned his head toward her, watching her face, and let her continue speaking. "He was doing it all for her. All those terrible things. And now she's going to grow up thinking her dad was this evil, awful serial killer. How fucked up is that?"

Klaus chuckled. Not at her statement, but at the use of the expletive. It sounded odd coming from Caroline's lips, but it was entirely apropos. Truthfully, Klaus hadn't been thinking much about Lucy or her mother. He supposed now they wouldn't have their extra source of income. Connor must have known it would have ended the way it did tonight. He must have known that he was only going to have so much time until either his aneurysm killed him or he was executed.

His fingers reached forward and he typed in a few things, pulling up Connor's financial records. As he assumed, all of his information was under the name of Sebastian Moran. Klaus wondered for a moment which identity was real and which was the fake. Or maybe they were both a charade.

It seemed that Connor, Sebastian, whomever, had been prepared for the inevitable.

"There," Klaus said pointing to the screen. "It seems Lucy and her mother will be taken care of."

Caroline leaned forward and looked at the number on the screen. A seven followed by a good number of zeros. She let out a surprised breath and took another sip of tea. "Well, that's something, I guess..." She let the sentence trail off, the thought hanging in the air between them. "Life goes on."

Klaus looked over at her. That wasn't what he had expected her to say. He had expected her to launch into all the reasons why it might not make up for the fact that Connor had killed people so he could provide for his family. The fact that Lucy would be ostracized if any of her peers found out about her father. Or how she and her mother might even have to leave the city because they would be haunted by this fact? How Grace Ferrier, who was smart, would figure out that they money had come from Connor had been connected to the murders? Would the woman suffer and internal moral battle of whether she should use it to support herself and her daughter or if she should cast it aside?

He frowned. He didn't usually think about the casualties. He thought about the game and the chase and the outcome. Why was letting all the other thoughts in?

His first thought was the drugs. Heroin had always left him numb to the world. Now that he was working cases without the drugs, emotional curiosities were bound to slip in. However, upon second thought, he realized the answer was sitting next to him. It was blonde, it was wearing a tiny pajama set, and it was drinking poorly prepared chamomile tea.

"You know, I heard what Connor said to you earlier," Caroline said, breaking into his thoughts. She took a deep breath, trying to pluck up the courage to say whatever she was about to say. "I probably shouldn't say this, and I know you're just going to brush this off anyways, but Connor was wrong. You do have someone who would care if you disappeared."

Klaus stopped, and look toward her, an irritated frown taking over his face. "Whatever you're prattling on about, can you do it somewhere else? I need to focus."

"And there's the brush off," she sighed. The grandfather clock chimed another hour. She stood with her cup to head back to her room, leaving Klaus's untouched tea on the desk. A yawn escaped her, the tea and the talking having eased her mind. "Get some sleep, okay?" she said to Klaus as she padded back to the stairs.

Klaus heard the door to her bedroom shut. He shut the laptop and fell back in his chair, looking in the direction that Caroline had just gone.

"Pleasant dreams, love."

* * *

**So now we know Connor's story, which was heavily influenced by A Study in Pink from the BBC Sherlock series. He's dead now, but Expression lives on and so does this Silas character. Hmmm... ;)**

**This was a difficult chapter to write and I spent a lot of time obsessing over it back and forth. Hopefully it turned out okay and made sense. My two betas helped it a lot!**

**Thanks for all the reads and reviews, I cherish each one!**

**p.s. thanks for all the patience with the Klaroline relationship build. Most of you really seem to appreciate. We'll start seeing some more goodness from them soon enough :)**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	10. Fools

**Hey lovely readers! I think it's been a couple weeks since an update right? Here ya go! I think you'll enjoy the next couple chapters. I certainly enjoy writing them!**

**Thanks to the Best Damn Beta team, Becky (A-little-blonde-distraction) and Kady (Klausykins), for dealing with my plotting weirdness and crimes against grammar.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Chapter 9: Fools_**

_"There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn't true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true." _  
_― Kirkegaard_

* * *

Caroline walked back into the house, sweat pouring down her face and neck, having just returned from her daily run. It was blistering outside, too hot to be running that late in the morning. It had reached that point in the middle of the Chicago summer where she would have to start getting up even earlier to run, so the weather would still be bearable. Good thing Caroline was already a morning person.

She paused by the stairs, stretching out her legs, letting the cool air of 221B sooth her reddened skin. The house was old, but thankfully a previous owner had installed central air at some point. She let a contented groan slip from her throat as she relieved her muscle tension, massaging her hamstrings and calves. Once her post-run stretches were done, she grabbed the small hand towel she had left by the door and patted at her sweaty face, tossing it over her shoulder.

Klaus emerged from his room as she strolled into the kitchen, pulling a Henly over his head, his usual beaded necklaces dangling at his chest. Caroline turned to speak to him and noticed a leggy redhead coming up behind him. She wore skin tight, leather shorts, and a ripped t-shirt. Her hair was half shaved on one side of her head, the rest hanging down over one eye, hitting her shoulder. A cacophony of purple, black, and green ink snaked up her arm.

The girl made eye contact with Caroline and started, looking at Klaus. "I didn't know you had a…roommate?"

"Don't worry about her," Klaus said, passing a few folded bills to tattoo girl. "Thanks for the company."

She accepted the money with a thank you, kissing Klaus on the cheek and flashing Caroline a polite smile, before heading in the direction of the door. Caroline turned from Klaus, and continued to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle.

"So you had company last night," she commented.

Klaus took the newspaper from the table and flipped it open, leaning back against the table. "I'm bored," he replied. "Boredom is detrimental to my health and sobriety."

"So you've mentioned," Caroline said, irritation still lining the edge of her voice. Her eyes caught the headline on the front page of the paper in Klaus's hands. It was another story about The takedown of The Artist, Connor Jordan. It had been a week since the night at Wacker Tower. There would be no trail, since Connor had been mysteriously murdered at his arrest, but the news media seemed to be milking as much as they could out of the serial killer story.

"Did you ever find anything on Connor's laptop," Caroline asked him. Klaus had spent the few nights after Connor arrest and murder, staring at the computer screen, trying to crack the codes and discover what information he could about the man.

"I didn't get far, truth be told," Klaus said flipping the page. "A remote virus was uploaded to it. Someone knew I was snooping."

In spite of still being hot, a small shiver waved through Caroline's skin. "I'm surprised the police aren't investigating it more."

"Crime is a business in this city. Investigating the murder of a murderer isn't a very lucrative investment."

"No, but it's still human life. It's not right to punish one person and let someone else walk away," Caroline said. Her voice went lower. "This isn't over though, is it?"

Klaus folded the newspaper and set it back on the table. "The police chief and the mayor enjoy the cozy little wrap up to their mystery," he said. "They want to crawl back into their blankets of safety and with nothing larger to worry about than gang violence, let them. They'll learn their mistake soon enough. Connor Jordan helped murder those people for a reason-"

"His daughter," Caroline supplied.

"Yes. But someone else had a reason for procuring his services to commit those murders."

"Silas?" Klaus nodded. "So there's a bigger picture going on, what do you think it is?"

"Remains to be seen."

Caroline wondered what those larger reasons might be, a few case studies she had read in school coming to mind. "Well, until then, Alaric did send you all those cold cases," she remarked, pulling a plastic case of blueberries from the fridge and popping a few into her mouth.

"And I've worked out most of them," Klaus replied, then changed the subject. "Someone is truant again."

Klaus gave her a teasing look, causing Caroline to roll her eyes. It was true. She had skipped two class sessions in a row now. "I have stuff to catch up on," she said. "And, I thought you might need some extra company. You said yourself you've been bored and in need of distraction."

"And you'd like to volunteer to distract me?" Klaus replied, a mischievous gleam in his eye. Caroline scrunched her nose at him and he chuckled. "You're avoiding your quasi ex-boyfriend."

"Maybe," Caroline admitted. "A little."

Klaus had overheard her telephone conversation with Lexi the other day, when she had filled her friend in on her now defunct relationship with Tyler. "And here you are always suggesting that I face my problems head on."

"Do as I say, not as I do," Caroline retorted. Her phone rang then, interrupting their banter. Caroline saw her landlord's name flash on the screen and answered, worried about why he might be calling her. He never called. Klaus listened to her side of the brief conversation and then watched her hang up her phone.

"That was my landlord," she said. "He called to ask about my housesitter. He said he got a few complaints from neighbors about noise."

"I suppose your housesitter has been having a few friends over while you're away?"

Caroline shook her head. "No one's house sitting for me. I should go check it out," she decided. "Will you go with me? In case it's some weird squatter or someone who broke in and is living there?"

Klaus agreed to go along. She ran upstairs to take a quick shower, rinsing away the sweat and dirt from her run, and then changed into a blue tank top and a pair of shorts.

"Wouldn't a doorman or security guard have noticed someone breaking into your home?" Klaus inquired on the way over.

Caroline grimaced. "It's not really that kind of place."

A feeling of embarrassment crept over her, as she realized that Klaus was about to see her apartment. She could have called Lexi. Even though Klaus's home was not nice or elegant by any standards, it was still large. It was still indicative that he had money and came from money. She had no idea what kind of place he had grown up in, but it was obvious to her from her observations of him and her knowledge of his family that there was a class difference between the two of them. Caroline had grown up in a small town, with limited means, watching her mother struggle from paycheck to paycheck. As an adult, Caroline's finances were much the same.

Her north side apartment was a small, shoebox like studio. Her living room doubled as her bedroom, and there was just a tiny hall that separated that from the small kitchen area. She had always considered herself lucky when it came to where she lived. Comparing her current place to other apartments she had viewed, she knew that most studios in her price range were just tiny single rooms. She had enjoyed her apartment, appreciating its cozy quality, knowing that it was just enough space for her to enjoy and be comfortable in.

They arrived at her apartment complex. It was a U-shaped stone building, guarded by a gate and a keycode box. Caroline punched the code onto the silver numbers, and the gate buzzed, allowing them access. Klaus followed her across the courtyard, to the very back of the property. She took out the keys from her purse and unlocked the front, glass door that led into her section of the building. Klaus looked at the damaged metal and hinges, the state of them rendering the lock and key unnecessary.

"There's no elevator," Caroline stated leading him toward the stairs. "I'm on the third floor."

The building was old, and the halls had an odd, cheap smell. The walls were painted a white color, that had transformed over time into a shade not unlike a smoker's teeth. They walked up the steps, covered in a faded red carpet, and up to the third floor. Caroline's door was the fourth on the right. She picked through her set of keys, selecting one topped in a plastic blue cover and put it in the lock on the deadbolt. It clicked over and she then placed the same key into the lock on the knob and reached to twist it.

Klaus covered her hand on the knob and her head snapped toward him at the touch.

"Shall I go first, love?" he suggested. "In case there are any vagrants lurking behind the door."

Caroline nodded and stepped back, allowing Klaus to open her door. He walked in and Caroline followed, peeking around his shoulder. To the left she saw her queen bed, the sheets and covers tossed back. Not how she left it. To her right was her couch, coffee table, and small television. The controls were in a different arrangement and there was a discarded box of takeout on the table top. Klaus looked back at Caroline.

"Someone has definitely been here," she said as a new set of worries began to creep over her. Klaus was about to ask her who else might have a key, when someone new entered the room.

"Carolin—Who the hell are you?!"

Klaus pushed Caroline firmly behind him as a dark haired man appeared from around the corner. He was naked, save for the white towel that was wrapped snugly around his waist. Klaus hadn't missed the way the interloper had addressed Caroline by her name, a weird flash of protectiveness momentarily consuming his thoughts.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked her, not tearing his eyes away from the man.

"Yes," she said gripping his arm and pushing it away from her. She walked around Klaus to stand in front of him. "Damon, what the hell are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

Damon's crystal stare was still flashing at Klaus behind her as he answered. "You still keep your spare key hidden by the fire extinguisher, I let myself in—who is this guy? Your boyfriend?"

Caroline turned back toward Klaus, who looked like he was two seconds from jumping over her and ripping Damon's head off. She shifted to him and put a hand on his chest before turning back to Damon.

"No," she said, attempting to be the calm one in the room. "Just put some clothes on, we'll wait outside." Without waiting for an answer, she pushed Klaus back out the door and shut it behind them. Her hands went to her head, her fingers massaging her temples. She could already feel a stress migraine coming on. "I can't believe this."

Klaus took her hands from her head and pulled them down, forcing her to gaze up at him. "Who is that?"

"Damon," she said. "Salvatore."

"As in—"

"Stefan's brother."

"And…"

"And," she repeated. "An old client. My first client."

Caroline stood there, looking up at Klaus, his hands still wrapped around hers. If she had known it was Damon there, she would have never brought him with her. Now it was too late and she would have to deal with the situation.

Klaus seemed to notice how close they were then. He released her hands and stepped away, moving to the other side of the hall.

"That's not all is it, love?" Klaus guessed. "He knows where your spare key is, knows his way around your home, seems perfectly comfortable being near you without any clothing…"

"We were involved, okay?" Caroline snapped. She let out a frustrated huff just as Damon whipped open the door, now dressed in jeans and a black V-necked shirt. He gave Klaus another calculating look and then turned to Caroline, all charm and ease.

"Don't be mad," he said, flashing her a lazy grin. "Come inside. We'll talk."

Caroline scowled as she walked past him. Typical Damon. Acting like he owned the place, when he was the one in her apartment without permission.

Klaus watched Caroline scurry around the room. As soon as they had walked back inside, she had set about trying to clean everything up, resetting the area to its normal, pristine condition.

"She does this when she's stressed," Damon directed his commentary to Klaus, though it was still loud enough for Caroline to hear. "Or mad. I used to call it 'bitch-cleaning.'"

He frowned at Damon, not reciprocating the man's clear attempt at camaraderie. Klaus thought about the times Caroline would rush around his home, re-organizing cabinets and shelves. He had always fixed her with a firm glare any time she attempted to rearrange anything in the living rooms, basement, or even step foot in his bedroom. This was the reason her bedroom and the kitchen area were the cleanest rooms in the house. He had noticed the pattern before, but brushed it off thinking that she was simply uncomfortable and unable to concentrate in his disorganized home.

Observing the habit through Damon's eyes made him uncomfortable. It was another confirmation that the two of them had been 'involved', as she had put it, though Klaus could deduce that 'involved' meant a lot of things. Even though he had only been aware of the other man for less than ten minutes, the thought of Caroline with Damon bothered him.

"Gee, what could I possibly have to be mad about?" Caroline gruffed, grabbing a pile of used paper plates and napkins from the coffee table.

Damon stepped over to her, taking her by the arms, the gesture reigniting Klaus's earlier feeling of protectiveness. He wanted to grab Damon by the throat and throw him against the wall for laying his hands on her. Instead, he shifted, crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying to remember the techniques that had been drilled into his head during anger management seminars in rehab.

"Okay Caroline, stop. Calm down." Damon pulled her down onto the couch, taking the trash items out of her hands. "Just sit and I'll talk and if you want me to leave when you've heard everything, I'll leave."

Caroline let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh, accepting his compromise. "Stefan said you were in LA?"

"That's what I wanted my baby brother to think," Damon said. "The truth was, I was in jail."

Her eyes snapped up to Damon in surprise. The man had the sense to look sheepish at the admission and he launched into the story of his recent history. Klaus leaned back against the wall as he listened.

It turned out that Damon had been doing some time for vehicular manslaughter. He had been living in upstate New York when he hit a teenager on a bike while driving under the influence. In a bit of luck, he had managed to get off with a sixteen month sentence, which had been whittled down to twelve for good behavior. Damon had arrived back in Chicago a week ago.

"You know how my father is and I can't go to Stefan," Damon explained. "He's doing so well. I don't want to fuck things up for him."

"That's a first," Caroline muttered.

"I just needed a place to stay. I came by and I noticed you weren't here. I figured you were out on a job." Damon tipped his head back to Klaus, finally seeming to remember that he was there.

"So what are you doing in Chicago if not for your father or Stefan?" Caroline asked. Damon dropped his head, his eyes rounding out like a puppy's, some sort of unspoken communication passing between them. She shrank back. "No," she said quickly. "Damon I was done with you playing with my head a long time ago. If you want that kind of help, go see Rose."

Damon shot up. "She won't see me." He reached out and grasped both her hands in his. "Caroline, please. I don't want to see Rose. I came to you. I wanna clean up this time. For real. I want to be able to see my brother and make my father less pissed off at me and…I want to make up for every bad thing I ever did to you."

Caroline looked at him, her jaw ticking, considering the weight of his words. "I have a colleague I can talk to," she said at last, "she works at a rehab facility and she owes me a favor. But Damon, you have to want to do this for you. Not because of your brother or father or me. For you."

"Cross my heart," Damon said removing one of his hands to make a crossing motion on his chest. "I promise Caroline, I'm going to do it. Jail time made me realize a lot of things. A lot of what's important."

"I'll be believe it when I see it," she replied.

Another smile stretched across Damon's face. He reached up, placing his fist under her chin, his thumb running across her jaw. "I promise you won't regret it."

* * *

"So are you going to call Alaric and have the Chicago PD toss him out on his ass or shall I?" Klaus asked, a cocky smile spreading across his face. They were out on the sidewalk, heading away from Caroline's apartment. She had finished cleaning up after Damon, and gave him a lecture about what would happen to him if he screwed up again. Having been on the receiving end of Caroline's lectures, he would have felt sorry for the man, if he hadn't already made the decision to loathe him.

"Neither," she replied. "I'm going to call my friend at the rehab facility like I said I would and see if I can get Damon squeezed in."

Klaus scoffed, his arms swinging at his sides as he followed Caroline's quick pace down the street. "Sweetheart, you do know I can tell you without a doubt that Damon Salvatore is a liar and has no intention of following through on his promises of mending his life."

"You don't know him," Caroline replied, glancing left and right down the street before proceeding over the crosswalk.

"I don't need to know him," Klaus said. "Haven't you been paying attention these last weeks?"

"Look, I don't need another person in my life telling me I'm an idiot because I'm giving Damon Salvatore yet another chance."

"As long as you realize you're being a fool."

"Why don't you save it for your sister!" Caroline snapped, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. Klaus stopped dead in his tracks. It was the middle of summer, but Caroline could have sworn she felt the sidewalk freeze over right where they were standing. She turned around and met his flashing stare, a bit more ice creeping into her veins.

"Well I can't do that," Klaus hissed. "Because she's dead."

Caroline pressed her lips together, wishing she could take it back. Seeing Damon again was wreaking havoc on her mood. It had been so long since she had been able to push him out of her life for good. It had taken a lot of effort. The thought of him coming back into it and screwing with her again terrified her. But she wasn't one to just ditch someone. It was a fight between her heart and mind. Still, lashing out at Klaus in the worst way possible was not okay.

"I'm sorry—" she attempted but he cut her off.

"Don't bother," Klaus snapped, taking a step toward her. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Rebekah every time she didn't listen to me." He got very close to her face, bending slightly to accommodate the height difference. "Don't come crying to me when it blows up in your face. You can find someone else to comfort you."

With that Klaus brushed past her and ignored her the rest of the way back to his home.

* * *

Caroline had spent the rest of the day in her room, irritated with Klaus, but also feeling bad about what she said. Looking back on the whole thing, the argument seemed childish. In fact, it was downright unprofessional. She wasn't supposed to lose her patience with him like that. Once again, she had let her duties as a sober companion fall flat.

To make matters even worse, Elijah had finally found time to respond to her email. It was a quick, concise, verbal reprimand thanking her for her update but urging her to keep her personal opinions about their familial relationships to herself and stick to what she had been hired to do, which was babysit.

So that made two Mikaelson men that were angry with her. She was on a roll.

Klaus had locked himself in his basement studio for the day; Caroline hadn't heard from him since they had gotten home. She did however, hear some very loud and angry music coming up from underground.

Eventually, she decided to venture downstairs to make dinner, thinking perhaps she could use it as a peace offering.

She pulled out what was left of the vegetables she had bought on her last trip to the store and tossed them into a large skillet, not really sure what she wanted to make. There was a little bit of iceberg lettuce still sitting in the crisper, its edges showing a trace of brown. Caroline grabbed it, ripping up a few pieces, and walked over to the terrarium that was now housing Clyde the tortoise.

"You're the only guy in my life who isn't mad at me," Caroline said, giving the turtle's shell an affectionate stroke.

She wondered if maybe she should make another trip to the grocery store, or if it was unnecessary. She only had two more weeks left with Klaus, after all.

In the middle of considering whether she needed to start looking for new work and trying not to burn her dinner, her cell phone rang. She dashed upstairs to grab it, and saw that it was the rehab facility returning her call.

"Caroline Forbes," she answered, walking back downstairs to keep an eye on the stove. It was one of the facilities directors, Pearl, that Caroline had met when she volunteered at the marathon two years ago. "Thank you so much for calling me back."

Pearl let Caroline know that they had a space available for Damon, and that he could check in the next day. Caroline thanked her profusely, knowing that Pearl was doing her a great favor. It wasn't like Damon could afford to pay for the facility, not if he wasn't speaking to his family anymore. "We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, I'll come with him to check in. Thank you so much, Pearl."

She hung up the phone, her mood lifting at the bit of good news, immediately dialing the cell number that Damon had given her. His phone rang and went to voicemail. "Damon, I got you a place at the rehab I was telling you about. We check in tomorrow evening. Meet me there at six. I'll text you the address. Don't you dare be late!"

"You really think he's going to show up?" Klaus asked, appearing behind her.

Caroline set her phone down on the table and walked back to the stove. "He'll show."

Klaus let out a laugh. "Once more, sweetheart, with feeling."

"What is the problem?" Caroline demanded, turning to face him. "Why does it make a difference to you whether he shows or not?"

"It doesn't make a difference to me," he replied with a shrug.

"Then why can't you drop it?"

"Tell me," Klaus said, "Do you sleep with all of your clients? Is this an added bonus I can look forward to before our time is up?"

Caroline gave him a salty smile. "Here we go. This is what you do. You make fun of me or make these crude, little flirtatious digs because you're trying to cover up whatever is really bothering you. Go ahead, say what you want."

"And here you go with the psycho analysis," Klaus said, walking over to his library of books in the living room.

"It only bothers you because you know I can see right through this freaking emotionless act you try to put on all the time."

He slipped a book from the shelf. "Better than distracting myself with the problems of others so I can ignore my own troubles and self doubts."

Caroline chewed the inside of her cheek. "You know what, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making that comment about your sister. I shouldn't have said it but I was annoyed with Damon and I took it out on you and it wasn't right." Klaus said nothing, keeping his back to her. She paused for a moment, waiting for him to accept the apology, or maybe offer one of his own, but realized it was stupid expecting him to respond. She started to turn around again, when he finally spoke. Or laughed rather.

"It must get exhausting, being that self-righteous all the time."

Her gaze narrowed. "What?"

Klaus replaced the book and faced her again.

"So, how long did it take for Damon to finally get the chance to ruffle those perfect little feathers, hm? An hour? A week?" Klaus took a few steps in her direction. "Did he make the demons go away? The ones left behind by your dead father. Did he give you a new mission in life, each time he failed?"

"Stop it," Caroline said.

"You have a thing for bad boys don't you? It's why you do what you do, why that Tyler bloke wasn't enough for you. You like being the angel in the arms of a devil."

"I said stop it."

"What's the matter, Caroline? Do you not enjoy being psychoanalyzed? Maybe it's because I'm hitting too close to the mark."

Caroline bit back her hurt feelings, glaring up at Klaus. "You just can't help it can you? Getting in your own way."

Klaus opened his mouth to utter another cutting remark, but the voice over the scanner interrupted him. He pulled it out and answered it.

"Officer 050878. A 10-54 has been reported at 226 W Ontario. Request officer on scene."

"Copy that. In route."

"That's Captain Saltzman badge. 10-54 means possible dead body."

"Well, you should be going then," Caroline said. "Wouldn't want to stand in your way."

Klaus arched an eyebrow. "You aren't coming?"

"Maybe you should get used to being alone again," Caroline told him, turning back into the kitchen. "Call me if you'll be more than two hours. I'll spit test you when you get back."

* * *

_Two Days Before_

"Sebastian!" Hayley spoke into her phone as she stepped from the elevator into the lobby of her apartment building. The security guard at the front desk seemed to be having some trouble with the CCTV. His hands knocked against the blank screen in confused frustration as he begged into a telephone for technical support. "Look I know you're mad at me, but I need to know if you're okay. Call me."

It was her fourth phone call to him, since seeing his photo in the paper that morning. Well, it wasn't him, it was someone who looked like him, but the name written below the face read "Connor Jordan." That man had been accused of being the guy who had committed all the creepy, artsy murders over the summer. The thought made Hayley shiver. She was used to being around less than seemly guys. Drug dealers, gang members, and then there was that one dude who'd said he was an arms dealer, but Hayley was sure he just said that so she would sleep with him.

Sebastian had been shady, rough around the edges maybe, and he certainly kept his secrets close to the vest, but he had been nice. Hayley didn't know too many of those kind of guys anymore. The guys with shades of gray about them. Most guys she met these days seemed to fall into two categories, asshole and angel, and she had time for neither.

Her phone rang again, as she stepped outside into the night, a warm breeze hitting her face. There was a party going on upstairs, as usual, but she didn't really feel like partying for a change. An annoyed scoff came from her throat as she looked at the caller ID. Speaking of angel.

"Dean," she yelled into the phone. "What?...I needed some air... no, don't come down here, I'll be back in like ten minutes...Go check on Tyler. He's been bummed since that blonde bitch dumped him." She hung up the phone. "God."

"Boy trouble there?"

Hayley turned her head toward the sound of the thick, Irish brogue addressing her. There was a man leaning up against the wall of her apartment building, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Yeah," she said with an eyeroll.

"Fuck em," the man replied, flicking open the silver, metallic lighter in his hand. His eyes danced over her. Her tongue slid over her lips, an unconscious response to his appraisal.

"Can I bum a cigarette?" she asked. The man nodded, pushing off the wall and walking toward her. He pulled out a slim case, opening it up and offering it to her.

"I roll my own," he stated. She took one and brought it to her lips. The man snapped the case shut and then held the lighter toward her face, keeping his eyes locked with hers. Hayley leaned into him, letting the rolled cigarette meet the small flame, inhaling. She blew out a puff of smoke and stepped away. "Name's Vaughn."

"Hayley," she returned.

"What do you say," he continued, "You want to get out of here, Hayley?"

She laughed, taking another drag. "Thanks, but I think I've had my fill of British guys." She thought of one certain, annoying British guy in particular.

"I'll bet you have," Vaughn said. "Come on. I'm new here. Show me a good place where a guy can get a pint in this city."

Hayley exhaled another cloud of smoke, considering the offer. "Okay," she agreed finally. She didn't want to go back upstairs and deal with Dean hanging all over her, and she could use a distraction from her worry over Sebastian. "I know a place."

A couple hours later, Hayley found her distraction, in a cheap motel room, falling back against questionable sheets after a rather intense orgasm. She laid there, catching her breath, reconsidering her stance on British guys. Vaughn got up from the bed and turned on the television, flipping it to a channel with a soccer match. In spite of the charm he had been throwing her way at the bar, he wasn't the type left to cuddling and pillow talk. She shrugged to herself. That was okay, neither was she. Vaughn sat at the edge of the bed with his back to her, his elbows against his knees, muttering at the TV.

Hayley chewed her lip, smiling to herself still in a blissful orgasmic haze, as she crawled over to him and ran her hands across his bare chest. There was a tattoo on his back. A symbol she had seen before. A star shape, with forked ends. Her finger traced it over it, senses prickling as she realized where she had seen it before. Sebastian had the tattoo, on his hand. And Klaus...he had been asking questions about it.

When she had first seen it on Sebastian, she thought it had been some sort of gang symbol, but he had told her it was something much more serious. He warned her, that if she ever came across it again, to run in the opposite direction.

"Although if you do ever see it again," he had said to her, "I imagine it will already be too late."

Her hand recoiled from the mark, and she slipped out of bed, trying to remain calm.

"I'm gonna go," she said to Vaughn, reaching for her shorts and underwear.

He waved a hand, without a glance or a word and Hayley slipped out of the room, not once did his eyes leave the television set.

She rushed back home as fast as possible, choosing to take the crowded train just in case, one eye over her shoulder the entire time. She slipped into the elevator at the same time the desk guard was going about his rounds. "Camera system's still down," the older gentleman said to her. "Gotta do rounds the old fashioned way tonight."

Hayley nodded, and got off on her floor.

Once she was finally in her apartment, she let out a relieved breath. The clock on her kitchen stove flashed green, telling her it was just after three in the morning. She could still hear the sounds of the party going on upstairs, a thrum of house music travelling through the walls. She walked further inside and threw her keys on the counter, heading toward the lamp. Maybe she would invite Tyler to stay over, or Dean, just to be safe for a few days. There was a chance she could be overreacting, but her instincts were on alert. Sebastian was missing and then the symbol on Vaughn...

"Ow, fuck!" She hissed, cursing the turned over barstool she had tripped on in the darkness. Her hand rubbed at her shin. She righted it and continued toward the light switch.

Maybe Tyler, she thought, don't want Dean getting any ide-

She didn't even have a chance to scream. A strong hand reached around her, a palm clamping over her mouth. But she didn't have time to think about being scared either, before she felt something rip into her stomach, a fiery pain creeping into her ribs and enveloping her body.

She pulled her hands away from her stomach, seeing them covered in blood, and she dropped to the floor.

"I don't know anything," she begged. "I don't know!"

A man dropped down next to her, pushing his knife into her belly once again. Hayley's mouth opened into a shocked and painful O, trying to see the face of her attacker.

"That's alright, lass," a familiar brogue whispered in her ear. "I quite enjoy killing you either way."

* * *

**Bing! Hayley's dead! For those of you Hayley haters, I'm sure you're all jumping out and down with glee. For those of you who like her, I'm SORRY! I honestly was not trying to write Hayley as an awful person, but because we were only ever really seeing her through certain vantage points, we mostly saw all of her really bad traits. In my head canon for this story, she's just a person who makes bad decisions and unfortunately, her nine lives ran out.**

**Also, just a warning. Vaughn is probably going to be OOC in this. Just because he's an insane murderer and I'm adapting him in a way that fits this story. So further apologies to Vaughn lovers! I need him to be a straight up crazy person!**

**Thanks for reading guys :)**

**follow me on tumblr at Hybridlovelies**


	11. The Same Mistakes

**Hey All! Apologies for the long wait on the chapter. Long story short, some stuff has been going on and my brain needed some time to just be nothing but mush. So instead of writing a lot, I was reading more in my free time. Also, if you follow me on tumblr, you'll see I've become super obsessed with Firefly so...yeah :)**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! I hear your cries for more Klaroline progression and hopefully this answers some of your wishes!**

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Alaric asked as he saw Klaus walk into the club.

"I heard the call on my scanner, came over right away," Klaus explained, sliding on a pair of latex gloves from his pockets.

The two men stood in the middle of the basement level of a large nightclub. The floor was still sticky from the weekend party, discarded glasses lining the table and stray bits of confetti mixed with the dirt on the black and white tile. In the center of the floor was a girl, laying out on her back wearing a clingy, short purple dress. She was dead.

"It wasn't a reported homicide," Alaric clarified.

"No, but obviously it _is_ a homicide," Klaus argued. "I take it this wasn't where the body was found."

"Cleaning crew found her in one of the bathroom stalls," Alaric explained. "The club is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so our best guess is she died sometime Sunday night, early Monday morning. Someone thought they were be _helpful_ by bringing her out here."

Klaus grinded his teeth. "Fantastic," he muttered, beginning to examine the body, which had begun to turn a green-blue color, the skin puffed out slightly. It was oddly complementary to the pink shade of her dress. Alaric stood over him, hands on hips, supervising, while a few other detectives searched the area and questioned the employees who had discovered the dead girl.

"I know we already stated the obvious, but I usually only call you in on the stuff I can't figure out for myself."

"Second night club homicide in a week," Klaus commented, flipping over the girl's limp hands. "I'm offended you didn't call me sooner."

"Well I thought, you know, with all the..."Alaric lowered his voice, "rehabilitation stuff."

Klaus shot him a look, effectively silencing the captain. Of course, Caroline just _had_ to go and mention that small detail about him. "I assure you, it's not something that will affect my work," he said carrying on with his examination. "Both of the bodies were positioned to look like overdoses."

"Uh, yeah," Alaric said clearing his throat. He squatted down next to Klaus and the body. "But the bruising on the previous victim suggested more of an altercation occured. The autopsy showed asphyxiation as cause of death."

Klaus moved to the victim's neck, examining. Just as he thought, there were bruises, thumbprint sized bruises on her throat. "I imagine the coroner will find much the same here," he replied. Klaus turned her head delicately in his hands. "You're looking for a male, around five foot nine."

"How do you know that?"

"The span of the grip," Klaus said, pointing to the bruising on opposite sides of her neck, where the murder's thumbs and fingers would have been placed.

One of the assisting officers came over to them, handing Alaric a pink, sequined clutch purse. Alaric took it and opened it, shuffling through the contents. "Cash, lip gloss, phone...ah! ID." He read the information. "Rachel Turner, born February 16th, 1988. The address is Indiana though. Not going to help us much."

"Check the text messages," Klaus suggested. "No doubt she was with friends the night of her murder. We'll question them, see who she was with, and find out if we can garner a lead. Possibly rule out a disgruntled boyfriend or date in the process."

"You really think this is another serial?" Alaric asked.

Klaus looked over the body once more, taking in every inch of detail, from the fabric of her dress, to the shade of polish on her toes. "I know it is."

He didn't voice his thought that it was connected to the Artist, or Silas. The captain didn't know that he was dealing with something that could be very, very big.

"Well for now we have to rule out the obvious," Alaric said, taking the bag and replacing its contents. He handed it off to another assisting officer to be placed into an evidence bag and catalogued. "I'll try to contact her family when we get back to the precinct, then crack open her phone and see if we can figure out who she was with this weekend." Klaus nodded, following Alaric out of the club. It was full evening when they stepped out. The sun was set and night had taken over the sky. Klaus pulled off the latex gloves and tossed them into the bin near the door.

"So, where is Caroline?" Klaus answered him with a dry look and Alaric began to backpedal. "I mean-er, you two are-uh, together. Always. She's supposed to be right? Ya know I thought you two were a couple when she first started hanging around. I was wondering cause I'd never seen you with a girl before so I thought-"

"Thought what?" Klaus's eyes narrowed.

The captain cleared his throat. "Well I-I mean she's pretty. A couple of the guys asked about her..."

"Asked what?" His question was clipped, an intimidating edge to it.

"You know I am not...even...sure...what I'm saying anymore," Alaric replied. His finger shot out to an officer coming out the door, shrinking under Klaus's severe look. "I need to go-uh, check the...thing. Tell Caroline I said hi, or you know...don't."

* * *

"Okay, what's the matter?" Lexi asked Caroline the next day at lunch. Caroline had called her friend and invited her out, wanting a distraction.

"What do you mean?" she dodged, taking a bite of her salad.

"I can see you sitting over there, quietly seething," her friend observed. "What gives?"

Caroline considered for a moment before letting out a breath. "Okay, can we keep this between us?" Lexi nodded. "It's Klaus."

"What's the matter? Trouble with his sobriety?"

"No it's not that," Caroline said. If Klaus was getting anything right, it was sobriety. Other than the one incident when they visited Connor's trailer, Caroline hadn't been concerned about him doing drugs. He seemed to have a handle on his control and a true commitment to fighting his addiction. "We had a fight yesterday and said some things that we didn't mean and now he's giving me the silent treatment."

Klaus had come back from the crime scene last night, and allowed her to spit test him like she said she would, but that had been it. He hadn't spoken a single word to her, except to say that he would be going to the precinct again that day and that he would check in with her as needed.

"What did he say?" Lexi prodded.

"I was just stressed about something and lashed out and then he lashed back." Caroline didn't want to bring Damon's name into the mix. One reason being that Lexi was still good friends with Stefan, and she might bring it up to Stefan. It was clear that Damon didn't want Stefan involved.

"You know my bleeding heart baby brother," Damon had said to her when he had finally called her back that morning. "He'll want to be helpful and I think we need time to recover apart."

The Salvatore brothers cared about each other, but it was true that they were often the causes of each others' misery.

"He's just so frustrating," Caroline let out a huff. "It's like I try to reach out and there are moments when I can feel him open up and then other times he just completely turns himself off to anything. It's so confusing. I just don't know how I'm supposed to act."

Lexi chewed thoughtfully, taking a sip of her water before she spoke. "Can I give you an opinion without you getting upset?"

Caroline gave her an uneasy look. Those sentences never preceded anything good. "Okay."

"You've been working with Klaus for what, like four weeks now?" Caroline nodded. "But I've seen you more in these past weeks than I ever see you. You've dated. You've had a social life."

"You think I'm not doing a good job..."

"You don't treat Klaus like a typical client."

"So it's my fault?" Caroline asked, offended.

"No, you're obviously doing a great job otherwise. He's sober right? And reacclimating well," Lexi said. "But the way you're talking about him...you talk about him like a guy you're dating, not like a client."

"A boyfriend?" Caroline burst into laughter. Lexi _had_ to be joking. Treating Klaus like a boyfriend. But her friend sat across from her, nodding her head in earnest. Caroline controlled her laughter. "How am I treating him like a boyfriend?"

"It's little things," Lexi attempted to explain. "Like the way you describe arguments with him or how you got mad when he went to question that Hayley girl without you-"

"She was a drug dealer, Lex! He shouldn't have gone to a drug dealer alone!"

"What about yesterday when you told me about the girl leaving his room? You seemed jealous."

"That was not jealousy," Caroline rolled her eyes. "That was disgust."

"There! Right there!" Lexi pointed.

"What?"

"That eye roll thing you did. I've only ever seen you do that about guys you like, when they're irritating you." Caroline pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to roll her eyes again. Lexi was being crazy! She did not treat Klaus like a boyfriend. He was a _client_. "Are you setting boundaries with him?"

"Of course," Caroline said. "Look we have to bond on some level. It's part of companionship. Sometimes it gets personal."

"Yeah but there are limits to that bond," Lexi reminded her. "Have you talked to him about your dad? Because you've never done that with clients."

Caroline stopped mid bite, setting her fork down. "Like you said, I don't talk to my clients about my dad."

"That wasn't a no."

An uncomfortable silence settled over their lunch as the waitress stepped over to refill Caroline's water glass. Once she had left, Caroline took a large sip. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Caroline," Lexi said. "I know what Damon-"

"Don't," Caroline warned.

"I just don't want to see that happen again," Lexi finished.

Caroline knew that Lexi was just trying to look out for her and be a good friend. She had seen her relationship with Damon and the fall out after. Caroline knew that if their places were switched, she would be giving Lexi the same advice. "I'll be okay Lex, I promise. It's not going to be Damon all over again. It's not like that with me and Klaus."

After lunch, Caroline went back to 221B to finish up on the homework she had been neglecting for Shane's class. He hadn't been too upset with her missing classes, judging by the tone of his emails, but she still had a term paper draft to turn in on Friday. Studying always provided a good distraction. She was sitting on her bed, doing some research when she had heard Klaus come back from the station. Drug testing him had crossed her mind, but what was the point? He was so stubborn she was sure that by this point he would just stay sober to prove that he didn't need her.

Something about that thought stung.

She shook her shoulders, trying to clear out the niggling feeling in her bones and continued with her reading.

It was nearing six o'clock when she got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up and go meet Damon. She slipped out of her shorts and tank top into a more respectable blouse and skirt combo, and touched up her hair and makeup. Pearl wasn't going to be there to meet her and Damon, but she wanted to look presentable to the person that would be checking them in. When she was done, she went downstairs. Klaus was in the living room, pinning up pictures and news articles on his board.

"I'm going to meet Damon and get him checked in at the rehab facility," she told him. "I should be back in a couple hours."

Klaus didn't say anything. He didn't even turn toward her or acknowledge that he heard her at all. She rolled her eyes, and turned to leave, shutting the door just a little too hard on her way out.

* * *

_ Everything was perfect. Caroline stood overlooking the dancefloor of the bar, congratulating herself on a job well done. A proud smile spreading across her cheeks as she took in the good time everyone was having. All of Damon's friends had showed up-not that he had that many, but they had managed to fill the place up. _

_ Lexi and Stefan were in the corner, enjoying a game of pool and some virgin cocktails. Caroline had talked the bartender into clearing out all of the alcohol and replacing everything with non-alcoholic beverages. _

_ "I don't know how you did it," Stefan had said to her. _

_ "I'm just that good," Caroline had told him with a giggle. He gave her an affectionate look and went to join Lexi by the pool tables._

_ Her self congratulating was put on hold when she saw her boyfriend, the man of the hour, sitting all alone staring blankly at the glass in his hand. Throwing back her shoulders, she walked over to him and slid her arm around his back._

_ "Hey," she said to him. "Are you having fun?"_

_ "Oh yeah," he answered with a flick of his eyebrows. "I'm having a grand, sober time."_

_ The small smile she had been holding onto fell from her face. "Damon..."_

_ "Save it, Caroline," he paused to knock back the contents of his glass. "I don't need any of your self help, twelve steps bullshit tonight."_

_ He slammed the glass down and slid off the stool, darting away from her. A familiar whiff of bitterness invaded her nostrils, and she picked up the glass, smelling the drops of liquid that still remained. _

_ "Are you drunk?" Caroline questioned, storming into the hallway where he stood near the bathrooms._

_ "Oh no, mom's mad," Damon said, waving his hands in mock-horror._

_ "This is serious, Damon-"_

_ "Oh, Caroline shut the fuck up, please! Everything is serious with you. You act more like my guardian than my girlfriend."_

_ She flinched. "Damon, I wanted to make you happy on your birthday. I wanted you to have a good time with your friends and family-"_

_ "You're an idiot Caroline. Inviting a bunch of addicts to a bar, really?"_

_ "Don't call me an idiot-"_

_ "You're nothing but an insecure, little bitch!"_

_ "Damon, please-"_

_ He turned from her then, heading for the back door. "I'm leaving."_

_ He had been drinking and she didn't want him to head out and get into worse trouble. She followed him, her hands tugging at his leather jacket. "Come on, Damon please don't-"_

_ He spun around, the back of his knuckles connecting with her cheek. Her hands flew to her face, her eye feeling like it was about to explode from the force of the hit. The ring, a family crest that Damon always wore, had hit her cheek bone and she felt a small trickle of blood slide down her face._

_ His look of anger morphed into one of shock. Damon looked down at his hand, as if it was some other creature separate from him, with a mind of its own. He stepped toward her but Caroline moved back._

_ "Caroline-"_

_ "You," she said to him, with a firm coldness in her voice. "Will not touch me ever again. Leave."_

"Miss are you sure I can't get you anything? Water?"

The memory melted into the present as Caroline looked over at the receptionist speaking to her from behind the desk. She was sitting on one of the plush benches of the reception area of the rehab facility, and the woman at the desk was looking back at her expectantly.

"No, thank you," Caroline replied. She glanced at the time, sighing at her own foolishness. "Ten more minutes," she murmured to herself.

* * *

"I saw it all happen," Stefan said. "I saw him hit her and Caroline swore that it had never happened before. She saw him one more time after that. He bottomed out a few days later and Caroline, being Caroline, didn't abandon him. She convinced my father to front the bill for rehab, but he only stayed there a few weeks. He disappeared and Caroline moved on."

Klaus had been sitting across from Stefan for almost thirty minutes now listening to the man talk. After Caroline had gone, he had called Stefan to meet at the diner they had originally met in. A lull in his current murder case caused his brain to turn back to Caroline and Damon and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Like any good detective he knew the best place to get information wasn't always from the victims, but the witnesses.

Stefan was an open book it seemed. It wasn't hard to get him to explain the entire saga of Caroline's relationship with Damon; from when Lexi introduced the two of them, to the night of Damon's birthday when the ill-fated relationship had come to a peak.

Klaus saw it all in his head. Caroline, trying to make someone who didn't deserve it happy. Someone who wasn't happy to begin with, and then suffering for her trouble. A fresh wave of hate for Damon Salvatore swept through him.

"You don't talk to you brother anymore?"

"He'll call," Stefan said. "I haven't heard from him in a while. Our father, in spite of being the world's biggest asshole, keeps track of us. Damon told me he was in LA but he's really in New York. He's run into some trouble and owes some debts and made the mistake of going to our father for help. But the man's charity stops there."

Klaus's gaze narrowed. He remembered Damon's story about jail time, and how he hadn't wanted Stefan to know about it.

Something clicked in Klaus's head. He looked at his phone. It was almost eight o'clock. He got up from the table, telling Stefan that he had somewhere to be, throwing a bill down. He walked out of the diner, catching a cab and hoping that he was wrong.

He stopped at the rehab center, the one he had overheard Caroline mention on the phone. Rushing into the front lobby, he addressed the woman at the desk.

"I'm look for Caroline Forbes," he said.

"Blonde girl?" the woman asked. "She sat right over there in that seat for about an hour and a half. Left twenty minutes ago."

So Damon Salvatore hadn't shown up. Klaus had been right. It was the first time in a very long time that he was sorry he was right. He got back into the cab and relayed another address to the driver. It was easy enough to break into Caroline's apartment building. He punched in the same code he had seen her use at the gate, and yanked on the door hard enough that it opened, the lock a mere decoration on the glass door.

Klaus ran up the three flights of stairs and down the hall to her apartment. He saw the door cracked open, a flash of worry hitting him hard. He pushed it open and saw her perfect apartment in shambles. Everything was turned on end. Her bed was ripped apart, books and DVDs scattered everywhere. The TV was shattered.

"Caroline?" he called out.

"Klaus?"

She stepped into the room from the kitchen, and a wave of relief flooded over him. She was unharmed. He didn't know what he'd expected, but just seeing her there, whole and unhurt was almost enough to make him smile.

"You were right," Caroline said. "He didn't show." Klaus didn't say anything. The tone in her voice told him it wasn't the time to gloat, even jokingly. "And as an added bonus..." Her hand gestured around the mess and destruction.

Klaus stepped further inside and shut the door. His foot hit a picture frame, and he winced at the crack.

"I just...oh my gosh!" Her eyes bulged as something occurred to her, and she spun around, heading into the kitchen. She pushed one of the kitchen chairs over to the edge of the room, climbing up and reaching her hands above the cabinets. In her haste, she almost fell and Klaus darted forward to catch her, but she regained her balance. She pulled a small tin case down and opened it up, her face dropping as soon as she saw what was inside.

"That son of a bitch!" Caroline yelled, climbing off the chair. Her look of anger melted into one of heartbreak as she looked up at Klaus. "I had a pocket watch that belonged to my dad. It was an antique. A Forbes family heirloom. I hid it up here in case anyone ever broke in. I can't believe he took it."

What else had he taken?

Caroline inventoried her apartment. She noticed a pair of diamond earrings missing, some christmas money she had left burning a hole in a card on top of her bookcase, and an old iPod she had stashed away.

"I bet he'll pawn it all for..." Drugs. Caroline let the thought hang. Klaus wasn't so sure, Stefan's earlier comments about Damon being in trouble with some thugs and owing them money coming to the forefront of his mind.

He walked into the living room, where he found her, adjusting the mattress on her bed and sitting down, exhausted. In his hand was a fresh cup of tea he had prepared for her while she had been searching for missing items. She accepted it, smiling up at him as he took a seat next to her.

"Damon and I-"

"I know," Klaus said cutting her off. "Stefan told me."

She looked half relieved, as if she was glad someone else had told the story so she didn't have to. Then she laughed. "You're just a couple of gossiping old ladies aren't you?" She took a sip of the tea, the steam brushing over her face. "I'm not that girl you know, the girl who constantly goes back to a guy after...When he hit me, I was done being his girlfriend. I would help him, but only as a friend. I guess this is what I get."

He studied her face in a way he hadn't before, noticing a small, star shaped scar at the top of her cheek. It was translucent white, nearly invisible-a tiny blemish in the natural pink blush of her face no doubt caused by the Salvatore family crest. It was odd that he hadn't seen it before considering that he always noticed everything about everything. An intense feeling of anger toward Damon Salvatore flooded through him at that moment.

"No," he said. "you can't think you deserve this."

"I guess it is pretty cynical," she mused, giving him a nudge with her shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be the cynical one and I'm the hopeless optimistic?"

Klaus chuckled. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

She returned his laugh. "I can't even begin to think about cleaning up this place," she sighed.

"Well lucky for you, I have the means to hire someone to do that for you."

"You don't have to-" But Klaus held up his hand to cut her protest short.

"Consider it a thank you," he said. "You've done more than your lion's share of work over the past few weeks. I'd say you earned the extra reward."

She couldn't help but straightening a few things as she left, feeling a bit better after the tea and Klaus's offer. Still, she was sad her father's watch was gone. Out of everything, she was most hurt to lose that.

They left the apartment, taking a cab back home.

"You know I'm glad you're hanging out with Stefan and getting to know each other," Caroline mentioned as they walked through the front door. "It makes me feel better."

"About what?" Klaus asked.

"Leaving in a week and a half. I'm glad you'll have someone you feel comfortable trusting." The friendly mood that had been restored between them shifted. Caroline pulled at her hands, her teeth tugging at her lip. "I actually already took another job. Lexi recommended it to me today. I start just a couple days after we finish up."

"Of course," Klaus said, feeling something drop inside his chest.

Caroline's phone rang, breaking the sudden tension in the room. She looked at the caller ID and answered. "Tyler? Wait, what? Slow down...what's the matter?" Klaus couldn't hear the boy on the other end, but he watched Caroline's eyes go wide with shock before she uttered a promise that "they would be right there". "That was Tyler," she said addressing Klaus now. "We have to go over to Baskerville Hall. Hayley's dead."

* * *

**So the Damon/Caroline flashback is a little callback to the scene between them in season one. Some of you guys may notice the parallels :)**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! In the next chapter Caroline and Klaus will be on the crime scene together and it looks like Caroline has been learning a thing or three from Klaus...and he'll be pretty impressed ;)**

**Thanks to the Best Damn Beta Team, Kady (klausykins) and Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction). Go give their fics some love too!**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	12. A Kiss with a Fist

**Okay, okay I know it's been a million billion years! Things have been up. You guys know if you've been reading my tumblr or have peeked at updates on my other fics. Thanks for your loving patience though on this update. I know it's been like a month. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. It's been on of my favorites to write in this fic so far.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter 11: A Kiss with a Fist_

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"How'd you get here so fast?" Alaric asked Klaus and Caroline as they stepped beyond the yellow caution tape and into the crime scene. "I just called you two minutes ago. You didn't even answer."

"I was already on my way," Klaus replied, going straight into detective mode.

Alaric shrugged, accepting the explanation and moved forward. "Victim is a twenty-two year old female, found when one of her friends stopped by and discovered her corpse in the middle of the kitchen floor."

"Caroline!"

Caroline turned at the sound of her name to see Tyler breaking away from an officer who had been questioning him and rushing toward her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding onto her as if she were his personal life preserver. Klaus's focus on the task at hand momentarily dropped when he noticed Caroline return the embrace.

"Tyler," she said pulling back from him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just found her like this," he explained, his eyes wide. "She hadn't been answering her phone-which is normal for Hayley-but I wanted to check on her just in case. I had a key to her place. I didn't know who else to call, I just remembered you said that Klaus was a detective or something like that and figured..."

His thoughts were disjointed and distressed. "It's fine, Tyler. It's okay that you called me," she said in a soothing tone.

His voice dropped so only she could hear. "They've been questioning me like they think _I_ did it."

"Don't worry, they just have to cross you off as a suspect. It's standard procedure." She gave him a reassuring pat on his arm.

Once he was calmed down a bit, Caroline moved to the side and let the officer finish questioning Tyler. She crossed over to where Klaus stood.

"Finished flirting?" Klaus arched an eyebrow.

"Don't start," Caroline shot him a look. "We just made up."

His lip twitched, but the amused expression quickly vanished as he began walking around the kitchen to take in the details.

Caroline let out a small gasp at seeing Hayley's dead body. She hadn't liked the girl very much, but seeing her dead still made her sad. Hayley's eyes were wide open and fluids were leaking from her mouth. Her skin had turned to an inhuman color of rot and dried blood pooled in the tile surrounding her. Over the past few weeks, Caroline had seen enough dead people to last her a lifetime, but looking at Hayley was far more unnerving than even the most grotesque of the murders she had witnessed. Maybe it was because this was someone she sort of knew. It was hard to remain clinical and observant when there was a name and personality attached to the victim.

"She bled out from the stab wounds," Alaric explained to Klaus as Caroline looked on.

"She stood here," Klaus stated, moving around and placing his feet next to Hayley's body. He began to re-enact his hypothesis. "Her back was to the attacker. She was grabbed from behind and that's when he inflicted the first wound. Then he let her drop to the floor," Klaus gestured to the bloody handprints on the wall. "There, she tried to catch herself. Then he gave her a couple more pokes for good measure and left through the front door."

Alaric nodded, accepting the theory. "How do you know he used the door?"

"Windows on these buildings don't open more than six inches, to prevent anyone from throwing anything out of them. So he couldn't have broken in through a window, even if he _did_ manage to scale the building. It would have been easy for him to sneak in that night unobserved if there was a party going on or guests coming in and out."

Klaus knew from his first Baskerville experience with Caroline that security was a bit lax when it came to people walking in and out of the building.

"Terrible," Caroline breathed. "Whoever did this _wanted_ her to suffer." Alaric and Klaus looked up at Caroline. "Bleeding out from the stomach is a slow way to die. If he attacked her from behind, he could have just stabbed her in the back, but he made special effort to hit her in the stomach-not once but _twice_. Made eye contact with her..." She let her observations trail, noticing the odd looks coming from the two men in front of her. She blinked. "What?"

"Nothing," Alaric replied, clearing his throat. "So in through the front door sneak attack by someone who definitely wanted her dead. Perhaps her boyfriend over there will be able to give us a few suggestions as to who might be on that list?"

"That's not her boyfriend," Caroline pointed out. "And she was a drug dealer, so she probably knew a lot of not nice people who might want to have killed her."

"Dare I ask why you know this?"

"Um," Caroline looked at Klaus, who seemed to be trying to communicate something with the pinch of his eyebrows and the tic of his jaw. "I was dating Tyler. Up…until…recently."

"Uh-huh," Alaric muttered, looking back at Klaus, who was now back to studying the scene. "We'll start with the drug deal gone bad. Good work Caroline." He left them in the kitchen.

Caroline watched him walk away, meeting Klaus's eyes again. He was looking at her again and she noted an odd, amused sort of look animating his features. "What?"

Klaus raised his latex covered hands, shaking his head. "Nothing."

Her eyes rolled at his annoyingly amused smile and landed on Tyler's distraught face. The investigator had finished questioning him and he was now hovering next to Hayley's bedroom door, trying his best not to look in the direction of the kitchen. Even though her and Tyler's relationship had been short lived, she still felt like she should go over and offer some type of comfort.

She wasn't really sure what to say to him, so she opened her mouth, hoping the correct words would come out. "I'm really sorry, Tyler."

Okay, so it wasn't the most original form of comfort, but it was something.

Tyler shook his head, his eyes blinking in disbelief. "I just can't believe...I mean I know Hayley was in with some bad shit but, I don't know..." He let out a heavy sigh, walking into the room and dropping down onto his dead friend's messy bed. "Stuff like this just doesn't happen to people you know." Caroline offered him a sad smile, knowing all too well how he felt. She sat down next to him. "I guess I should try to get in touch with her friends-arrange a funeral, I don't know who would come though."

"Well you and Dean right? Maybe some foster parents she had along the way that kept in touch?"

"Yeah," Tyler answered dejectedly.

"Caroline," Klaus stood in the doorway, jerking his head in the direction of the front door, indicating that he was ready to leave.

She nodded and looked back at Tyler. "If you need something, call."

He nodded and she offered him another hug before standing up and leaving with Klaus.

They were silent in the elevator, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Klaus glanced up at the space on the wall, above the glowing buttons.

"Is there any particular reason why you didn't want me to mention the real reason with both knew Hayley," Caroline ventured. "Like because of The Artist? Sebastian Moran aka Connor Jordan? Aka this could all be linked?

"Security cameras," he said.

"What?"

The bell dinged and the door opened. Klaus stepped out and went straight for the security desk.

"I need the security footage from the elevators three nights ago," Klaus demanded, addressing the guard on duty.

The uniformed man shook his head. "You don't think I've already been asked for those? Our system went down that night. Only got fixed yesterday."

"Damn," Klaus said as they exited the building. "That would have made things easy."

"Yeah," Caroline said, looping an arm through his, "but where's the fun in the that?"

He grinned down at her, and she only felt a penny-sized amount of guilt about smiling back.

* * *

.

It had been an eventful night, reminding her of the first night she and Klaus had spent together. Never a dull moment, she thought. The crime scene had completely put Damon and his thievery out of Caroline's mind. She was still sad about losing her dad's watch and her apartment being trashed, but the latter was definitely fixable, especially if she took Klaus up on his offer of hired help. She glanced over at her alarm clock. The morning was almost over. With a stretch she rolled out of bed and got dressed. As much as she was enjoying sundresses, she was looking forward to fall and donning her favorite leather boots.

Klaus was coming through the front door as Caroline came downstairs.

"Excuse me," she said with her hands on her hips. "Where have you been?"

"Meeting my dealer down the street," Klaus quipped. Caroline twisted her mouth at his sarcasm. "Relax love, I have coffee." She noticed the beverages in his hand and her mood instantly lightened as she took one of the cups off his hands. "Did you enjoy your lie in?"

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so late," Caroline replied taking her coffee toward the kitchen. Klaus followed. She noticed the dining room table was covered with papers and pictures and lots of notes. "Did you sleep?"

"Enough," Klaus replied.

She took a sip of her iced coffee, the sides of the cup sweating from the heat outside and walked around the table looking over Klaus's spread of papers. They were more case files; one from the murder Klaus had been investigating the other night, and another from just the week before.

"All dead college girls," Caroline commented, "seems like a pattern."

"Indeed," Klaus confirmed.

"Another serial killer?"

Klaus shook his head. "That's what we're supposed to think. But actually it's the same one."

"The Artist? But this is just killing random women in clubs. Except for Hayley."

Klaus raised a finger. "Yes. The only thing these women have in common is their age and the venue in which they were killed except for Hayley. You yourself pointed out last night that someone _wanted_ to see her die."

"So someone was trying to throw the police off the trail by murdering the others first and making it look like a serial killer who targets college girls, before going after Hayley."

"I imagine the resulting headlines were meant to strike fear into the hearts of sorority girls all over the city."

"Well, I guess they weren't planning on someone as smart as you being on the case." Caroline shot him a playful grin.

Klaus fought the curve of his lip and failed. "Was that a compliment, love?"

Her appreciation was quickly covered with an eye roll and a scoff. "Don't get used to it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Caroline glanced up at him again, noticing for the first time a hint of boyishness in the amused crinkles around his sea-blue eyes. For a moment the shadows of the past had fled. The haunted coldness that tended to surround him had thawed and what remained was a warm, egotistical, yet intriguing man that Caroline found herself wanting to know more about. Her lip caught between her teeth as she realized she was enjoying that look in his eyes far too much and enjoying the fact that it was directed at her even more.

"Caroline?"

She snapped out of her daze at his voice, quickly shoving her straw into her mouth and taking a large sip of her coffee. Good grief, how long had she been staring at him like that? She hoped he didn't notice. _Yeah, right_, she told herself. He noticed _everything_.

"What were you saying?" She asked taking a few steps away from him and pretending to study the files on the table.

"I was saying that the murderer didn't premeditate his other victims, but he did select the venues," Klaus repeated.

"How do you know?"

"The security cameras were down in the clubs on the night of the other murders."

Caroline waited for further explanation, but Klaus just stared at her. She realized he was waiting for her to deduce the answer herself. "And that means…" Her mind was coming up blank.

"It means that the murderer had scouted his venues before committing his crimes. The victims, apart from Hayley, are random but the crime scenes are not."

"So maybe we can catch him if we can figure out which club he's headed to next," Caroline concluded. "How do we do that?"

"I've already put a call in with a few of the security companies within Chicago. It seems that the two clubs as well as Baskerville used the same company. The murderer must only know how to dismantle that particular brand and is too lazy to bother learning any others. I called for a list of their other clients and then sent word to the club owners to immediately contact Captain Saltzman if any of their systems go down."

"The plan is to catch him in the act then?" Klaus nodded. "Might help if we had an idea of who we were looking for."

"My thoughts exactly," he said. "We need to get going."

"Where?"

"We're going to speak to Rachel Turner's roommate and find out who was with her the night she died."

* * *

.

"She went out by herself."

Well, that certainly killed that line of questioning, Caroline thought.

She and Klaus had made their way to Rachel's dormitory. The deceased girl had attended another college in the city, different from Caroline's school. Much different. The college Caroline went to was full of liberal arts majors and art students, this university was much more traditional. It was the kind of school with lacrosse players and sororities and never-ending frat parties, instead of hipster art kids with their odd clothes and smoking habits.

Rachel's roommate, Mindy, had let them in and Caroline had quickly realized that Klaus had no experience dealing with a hysterical and distraught college girl. After he attempted a few gruff and straight to the point questions, she shooed him away to examine Rachel's room and took over questioning herself. _Questioning a witness should be easy enough_, she thought. It was just talking, and Caroline was good at talking.

It was possible that Rachel's murderer had been hitting on her at the club. Her friends would have seen him. She could take a physical description back to the police and they could draw up one of those genius police drawings. That's how it worked, right? Caroline called forth hours of Law and Order reruns and channeled her inner Olivia Benson.

"I couldn't go out with her because I was studying," Mindy sobbed. "If I had maybe she wouldn't…"

Caroline patted the girl's back, trying to assure her not to blame herself.

"Why did she go out on a Sunday?" Caroline asked, trying to gain some focus. "Seems like an odd night to go out."

"She went out every night that weekend," Mindy explained. "She broke up with her boyfriend a couple weeks ago. So we've been going out dancing on Fridays and Saturdays. She just decided that she wanted to go Sunday too, but I was so exhausted and I hadn't gotten anything done…so she said she was going out herself. It was the same bar we always go to."

Caroline nodded, recognizing the typical break-up grieving scenario. "Did she meet any guys?"

"There was one guy that hung around us a lot, bought us both drinks, but he paid attention to Rachel more than me."

Caroline pursed her lips for a moment, and then settled back into the purple futon. "I haven't been dancing in ages," she settling against the feathery pink pillow behind her. "My friends and I used to go out all the time." Mindy gave her a half smile. "We used to go out and try to hook up with guys, but sometimes we just wanted to dance, ya know?"

"Yeah," Mindy gave her a half smile. Caroline saw a box of tissues on the side table and reached for them, handing them over to the teary eyed girl. "That was the idea. She was still super smashed over Kyle—her ex. He cheated on her with this girl, Hayley." Caroline heard Klaus knock something over in the room. She bit back a giggle. That would have been way too much of a coincidence. "She wasn't really ready for another guy."

"I know how that goes," Caroline replied.

"Michael—the guy she met—he bought her drinks. They danced. So I told her she should just hook up with him. Show Kyle that he didn't matter anymore and that Rachel was so over him. Rebound sex can't hurt right?" Caroline giggled along with her and nodded. "That's another reason why I didn't really worry too much about her going by herself. Cause she was meeting the guy. He didn't seem like a creep or a serial killer. They caught that guy right?"

Caroline didn't tell her that there was another serial killer on the loose that they should possibly be worried about. She leaned toward her. "Did you guys ever take any pictures of him?"

"No," Mindy shook her head. "Oh—wait. Yeah. I took a shot of them together to send to our friend, Tess, to get her opinion on the guy. We were gonna put it on Facebook so Kyle would see and get jealous. I just never got around to it."

Mindy stood up and walked into her room grabbing her phone and bringing it back to Caroline. She scrolled through and then showed the picture to her. It was a little grainy and dark, but good enough to see the guy's face. "He had a Irish accent or something. A lot of foreign guys hang out at that bar. I'm pretty sure he was a tourist."

"Why do you say that?"

"He invited her to his hotel room on Saturday, said he was staying at a hotel downtown. But we didn't go. Rachel didn't want me going home by myself. She was a good friend like that."

"Good call," Caroline replied. "Do you mind if I text this to myself?"

"Go for it," Mindy said. Caroline tapped in her number and sent herself the picture, just as Klaus reappeared in the common area.

"Finished with girl chat?" He asked, looking over at Caroline. She nodded and stood, giving Mindy back her phone.

"Thanks for the help," Caroline told her.

"Not sure how much help I was," the girl shrugged.

Caroline and Klaus crossed the small campus, and strolled down the sidewalk. It was hot out, and she took the hairband wrapped around her wrist and spun her waves into a ponytail.

"You did well with the questioning," Klaus commented as they walked.

"It something I learned in one of my counseling courses," Caroline said, snapping the hair band into place. "She was obviously overwhelmed and unable to remember anything useful. I just had to get her talking and figured you'd be listening and overhear anything important."

"Well done," Klaus repeated. "You sent yourself the picture of the potential rebound?" Caroline reached into her purse and took out her phone, opening the message and passing it to Klaus.

"Not sure how helpful it will be," she said. "We have a first name only…Michael. If that is even his real name."

"It's something," Klaus replied. "We can check the downtown area hotels, perhaps they've seen him."

* * *

.

Early the next morning, Alaric called to say that they had their suspect in custody. "Michael Davis, twenty-eight years old, _American,_" he explained when they arrived. "He wasn't a guest at the hotel. Some officers showed concierge the picture and they said he was an employee."

Caroline accompanied Klaus to the station and they watched from the other side of a two-way mirror as their suspect sat in the interrogation room. He looked different than he had in the photo. He was wearing his work uniform, having been picked up at the hotel, and his brown hair was ruffled from repeatedly running nervous hands through it. Alaric was currently questioning him on his whereabouts at the time of the murder. Klaus was leaning against the table behind them, his chin in his fist. She listened to Michael Davis frantically answer the Captain's preliminary accusations.

"I thought he had an accent," Caroline mused. "Mindy said he had an Irish accent."

"It doesn't make a difference. He's not our killer," Klaus replied, studying Davis while he attempted to explain over and over again that he had no idea who Rachel Turner was and certainly didn't kill her.

"How do you know?" Caroline asked.

"Too pretty."

She scoffed. "Aren't serial killers known for being charismatic and attractive?"

"Charismatic, yes. Attractive, no. That's where the charisma comes in handy."

Caroline looked over at him, cocking her head and looking at him the way a scientist might study the contents of a petri dish. Klaus straightened up under her scrutiny. "What is it?"

"Considering your theory about charisma and attractiveness…" she answered. "I'm trying to figure out why you aren't more charming?"

Klaus's eyes flashed with amusement and he pursed his lips. "Cheeky." The happy attitude dropped in a second and Klaus's face transformed as he barged into the room and took over the questioning. "If you don't know Ms. Turner, then perhaps you can explain how you ended up in a photograph with her?" Klaus pulled out his phone and flashed the picture Caroline had forwarded him, to Davis.

The younger man blanched. "Okay…okay. I just didn't recognize her name."

"Give us a few moments, Captain?"

Alaric relented and left the room, joining Caroline on the other side of the mirror. "I hate when he does that. He makes me look like an idiot."

Caroline laughed. "I'm sure that's part of the thrill. Putting us less brilliant people in our places."

"You've lost your accent," Klaus said to Michael, echoing Caroline's observation. He took the seat across from him.

Michael's lip curled in confusion. "Huh?"

"Rachel's friend, the girl who sent me this picture mentioned that you spoke with an Irish accent," Klaus waved his hand in the air. "Let's hear it. I'm from Wales originally, spent some time in Ireland during my childhood on family trips. Perhaps I can give you a few pointers."

Michael looked around the room for assistance that didn't exist and wasn't coming. He leaned forward, trying to appeal to Klaus. "Look, I fake accents sometimes to get girls, I don't fucking kill anyone."

"Come on, you're no fun," Klaus sat back and kicked his legs up onto the table. "Give it a go." Michael cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something but Klaus sat up and stopped him. "No. Terrible. Stop."

Caroline shook her head, knowing that Klaus was having fun toying around with the poor guy. So he wasn't the killer-just some lame bellboy who happened to hit on the wrong girl on the wrong night. Her eyes casually rolled up toward the clock above the door and she noted the time with a gasp. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Alaric asked.

"I'm supposed to be in class right now!" Caroline jumped and grabbed her purse from the back of the chair by the table, swallowing the last of the crappy station coffee and checking the time on her phone. "Um, tell Klaus to call me when he gets finished and to go straight home and be good."

Alaric chuckled and nodded. Caroline threw one last look at Klaus in the room, and then sped out the door.

* * *

.

She made it to class with only a half hour left of the lecture. It wasn't much but at least it was something. Of course the door to the hall had to be extra loud as it opened and her chair extra squeaky as she sat down. She didn't have her laptop or any of her class materials with her, so she sat quietly, with her hands folded, and listened as intently as she could.

"Ms. Forbes, can I speak with you?"

He called to her as the rest of the class shuffled out at the end of the session. She had noticed Tyler had been absent that day. Caroline walked down the steps and met Shane at the lectern. "Caroline I believe we had a discussion a few weeks ago about your commitment to academia…"

"Yes, and I meant everything I said about—"

"And now you've been missing classes and walking in late."

"I'm really sorry, I've just been so busy—"

Shane placed a hand on her arm, stopping her voice. "Caroline, I'm not trying to chastise you for missing class," he explained. "In fact, I was going to tell you how happy I've been with your recent work."

"Oh, um, thanks," Caroline replied with a half smile and a not entirely convinced he wasn't mad at her.

"I know it's daunting to sit through lectures. Especially when you have other things going on that are far more exciting," Shane continued. "I must say I've enjoyed reading about your practical applications to some of the concepts we've explored in class."

Shane was talking about her recent essays. She had been using the investigations she had been on as topics for the arguments in some of her papers. "Well, it's more fascinating when it becomes real," she said.

"Indeed it is," Shane smiled. "Have you thought any more about your term paper?"

Caroline had turned in her topic for approval already and Shane had given her the go ahead. "I've done a basic outline," she fibbed. She hadn't started it at all.

"Well I say toss it. I have a better idea." Shane set his briefcase on top of the desk and opened it, pulling out a leather bound journal. "Here." Caroline took it from him and opened it. The pages were a rich cream color, covered with black ink. They read like a diary, with drawings and commentary and arrows and notes. Almost similar to the mind maps Klaus would create on the walls of 221B. "It's my Expression research."

"I thought you got rid of it all?"

"Not all of it," Shane explained. "Not my personal files anyways. I destroyed my sources, so none of this is technically credible."

"And you're giving it to me?"

"You and your friend…"

"Klaus," she provided.

"Yes, Klaus, you were asking about secret societies. I think they should be the topic of your term paper. The psychological affects of secret societies, conspiracy theories, and the effects on culture. How myth becomes legend and legend becomes a tool."

Caroline's brows knit together. "But I don't see how it all applies?"

"Start reading and I think you will," Shane said. "You're a smart girl, Caroline. I think if you approach this in the right way, you could be looking at your grad school thesis."

"Wow," Caroline blinked, honored that Shane thought this much of her as an academic. Professors didn't usually single students out like this, unless they thought they were worth the time. It was the first time Caroline ever remembered a teacher, let alone anyone, taking her seriously.

"Crack it open," Shane advised. "And give me a thesis statement by Monday."

"Okay, I will." Caroline promised, placing the journal into her purse and heading toward the door.

"And Caroline…when I say crack, I don't really mean crack. Be gentle. That book is important to me. It's seen and heard a lot."

The professor smiled and Caroline released a tiny laugh. "Understood. Thanks Professor Shane."

* * *

.

Klaus exited the interrogation room and one of the officers came in to release Michael Davis from custody. The chat hadn't been a total bust. Apparently the boy had some use. He tended to troll the nightclubs in the area; pretending to be a foreign tourist to pick up girls and then taking them back to a special room at his place of employment. It was a scam he was running with a couple of his co-workers.

Michael had had planned to leave the club with Rachel that Sunday night, and had gone outside for a few moments to call his friends at the hotel and make sure the room was set. While he was gone, another man had approached her and Michael lost his chances.

"Blonde, had a beard, smooth talker," Michael had told him. "He had an accent too. His was definitely real though. I tried to get Rachel to go with me, but she was digging the other guy so I let it go."

If only Rachel had chosen the scam artist over the killer, she might still be alive. A tragic stroke of bad luck.

"So we've got a possible description of Rachel's killer," Alaric said, joining him in the hallway. They started walking toward his office but Klaus wasn't listening, his mind was far away from the present at that moment. Synapses fired and played connect the dots inside of his head. "What are you thinking?"

"This is starting to get familiar," Klaus replied, coming back to the conversation. "Can we get a message to Scotland Yard about some case files I worked on previously?"

"Yeah, sure," the captain replied.

Klaus's phone rang. "Klaus Mikaelson," he answered it. "Ah. Excellent timing…you haven't lost your touch. Yes, I'll be there soon. Thank you again my friend." He shut his phone and looked back to Alaric. "Where has Caroline run off to?"

"She said she had class," Alaric told him.

"I was wondering when she would remember," Klaus said. "Well that works out perfectly, I have an errand to run, and I need her elsewhere while I run it."

"Well she ordered you to go straight home and to be good," Alaric laughed, but Klaus did not share his enjoyment, answering him with a dry look. The captain immediately shifted, letting out an uncomfortable cough. "Anyways, I'll have those files messengered to your place when we get them."

Klaus nodded. "See that you do."

Klaus hopped in a cab and headed north. He had the cabbie drop him a few blocks away from his destination. It was just passing noon when he stepped into the bar that his contact had named over the phone. There were a few people enjoying lunch at the booths near the open windows. The jukebox in the corner sang a classic rock song to the patrons dining on burgers and fries. Hot summer air, swept in through the open windows, mixing the smells of food and booze with fresh grass and colorful flowers. The bartender stood behind his bar wiping a glass with a rag and giving him an unsure eye as he entered.

Klaus's eyes went straight for the man seated on one of the stools at the bar wearing a gray t-shirt, his shoulders hunched over a glass, booted feet hooked into the metal bars at the bottom of his seat.

Klaus's own boots echoed as he stomped across the wood floor. The bartender saw the look in his eyes, and the way it was trained on his customer, and grew weary. "Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you." Klaus replied, stopping next to the seated man. "I used to come here a few years ago. Back when it was a little less family friendly. But I see they still open their doors to the riff raff."

"Oh honey," Damon Salvatore chuckled, "I've been called worse."

Klaus noticed the ring on Damon's finger, remembering the tiny scar that it had left on Caroline, his temper flaring.

"I see you still wear the Salvatore Crest," Klaus commented. "I'm surprised you haven't hawked it yet, since you are so desperate for money to pay off your little debts." Damon's thumb went to the ring, twisting it around his finger. He had an interesting and selective sense of nostalgia, Klaus thought.

"I still have a few friends in Chicago."

"I find that unlikely," Klaus retorted.

"They told me about you hanging around Stefan," Damon said. "So you're best pals with my brother, you've got my girl, you're just picking up my life aren't you? Perhaps I should call my father, have him cut you into the inheritance he'll deny me for being such a disappointing son."

"No need, I have my own fortune that I'm sure will suffice," he smirked.

"What are you?" Damon sneered. "You're no different than me. I can see it. But you pretend with all the detective shit and with the sobriety and whatever the hell else—what's the point?"

"You're right Damon," Klaus agreed. "I'm not different than you. We both battle similar demons. We've both disappointed our families. We've both fallen short of the forgiveness people offer us. But there is one, very striking difference between us that I don't think you've realized yet."

"Oh yeah," Damon muttered, his eyes rolling back to his empty glass. "And what's that?"

Klaus's fist shot out, connecting with Damon's face and sending him flying from his bar stool. He landed on the ground and the stool landed on him, the empty glass crashing to the ground. Klaus threw the stool off Damon and jerk him up to a sitting position, wrapping a hand around his throat. He pressed his thumb into his neck, feeling the muscles and veins tangling underneath his skin. Damon's eyes flashed in fear and twitched in anger.

Klaus's voice growled as he spoke again. "The difference is…if I ever hear about you coming near Caroline ever again, I can kill you…and make it look like an accident."

Klaus released him shoving at his throat and knocking him to the ground. Damon sputtered and coughed, his hands rubbing at his throat. Klaus wanted to cause him more pain. He wanted to beat him bloody, until he atoned for the pain he had caused. But the way that the barman was hovering near the phone told him his time was running short.

He stood and made a show of pulling out his wallet. He left a couple bills on the bar and looked at the bartender. "For your trouble," he said, passing another glance over Damon's form on the floor, seeing the dark hair man cursing him with a fiery glare. He was weak and cowardly. Klaus knew there was no bite behind the man's bark, not when it came to stronger creatures.

Klaus smirked and strolled out of the bar to head back home.

.

* * *

**So did you guys enjoy the chapter? I hope so...feel free to let me know!**

**Thanks to the Best Damn Beta Team Klausykins and A-Little-Blonde-Distraction :D**

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	13. Puzzle Pieces

**Hey Guys! Apologies for no update last week. I was busy with GISHWHES...which if you don't know what that is, you should google it. It was a hell of a lot of fun!**

**Thanks for continuing with all of the lovely reviews and comments. I can't get enough of hearing how much you love this story. **

**AND..for those of you concerned. Yes, there is still going to be a love story happening here. I've started to hint at it more in the last few chapters, but I would HOPE that I entertaining you all without constant smut. Don't worry, good things comes to those who wait.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

.

Ding. _Dong_.

Ding. _Dong_.

_Diiiiiing_. _Dooooong_.

Caroline let out an exasperated groan. Klaus was downstairs, at that very moment, and awake. She had heard him that morning, music blasting from the record player and kettle whistling. He didn't like interruptions when he was in his "mind palace"—that place of thought in which he locked himself to gather his thoughts and sort through the "natterings of daily life" so that he could see things more clearly.

Ding. _Dong_.

"Klaus! Door!" she yelled. No answer. "Stupid, arrogant..."she muttered as she lifted herself from her bed, set her reading aside, and stomped down the stairs to the front door. She opened it and saw a boy a few years younger than herself, backpack slung over his shoulder and a blue bicycle leaning on the pillar just behind him.

"Delivery for Klaus Mikaelson," he stated, holding up a large manila folder.

"I'll sign," Caroline replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. It wasn't _his_ fault that Klaus was for some reason incapable of answering his own damn door.

She scribbled her name on his sheet and took the parcel offering the messenger a smile before shutting the door. Klaus wasn't in the living room or in the dining area. She dropped the envelope onto the dining table-covered as usual in stray papers and take out containers-and looked around to see the basement door cracked open.

"Klaus!" she yelled again. She walked over to the door and yanked on the knob, yelling down to him. "Klaus!"

No answer. She huffed again and went downstairs. She found him shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose pants, and attacking a punching bag hanging from the center of the ceiling. He was cover in a layer of sweat that shined on the muscles of his back, twisting and dancing as his fists hit the worn out bag.

"Klaus! Hello! Didn't you hear me yelling?"

Klaus stopped, dropping his arms, and faced her. "Yes, Caroline. I think the whole city heard you."

"The doorbell was ringing."

"I heard."

"Why didn't you answer it?"

"Because I knew that you would."

Her nose scrunched up and she fought the urge to say something childish. Klaus's art materials had been set aside to make room for the punching bag. Her interest shifted. "What is all this?"

"It's for your benefit actually," Klaus stated, taking a towel from the floor by the wall and wiping the sweat from his face.

Caroline cocked her head, once again taking note of his half-clothed state. He had put on more weight and muscle in the weeks since he had been out of rehab and was filling out well. Not like model-body type hot but good to look at none-the-less. Her sneaky eyes trailed down to his waist, just for half a moment, noticing the V-muscle that all girls drooled over disappearing into the waistline of his pants.

"My benefit?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice even and her thoughts PG.

"Go change," Klaus instructed. "You're getting a crash course in self-defense."

"You're going to teach me to fight?"

"Yes," Klaus replied. "I'm surprised that you haven't taken self-defense before, considering that you work with people who are prone to violence. It's essential that you know how to protect yourself."

Caroline felt a little ashamed at his admonishment, but she was impressed by his progressive viewpoint. Not to mention warmed by his underlying concern. She figured she could put off her reading for a little while for a defense lesson from Klaus. And it would give her an excuse to ogle him a bit more.

She almost stopped herself on the stairs as the thought crossed her mind. No, she wasn't going to _ogle_ him. That was inappropriate.

In all fairness, he was a little difficult not to notice in that way. She wasn't blind. Klaus was attractive…some might even say hot, if she was into that bad-boy undressing you with his eyes sort of stare—which she was definitely not. Damon had more than cured her of any lingering bad boy cravings.

She stepped into her room and pulled on a tank top and pair of her running shorts, slipping into her trainers. Maybe admiring Klaus wasn't a terrible thing. It's not like she was fantasizing or flirting with him. Just acknowledging he was hot, in a friend sort of way. Stefan was her friend and she could say he was hot without it being a big deal. Stefan was hot. So was Klaus. No big deal.

"I never really thought I could really fight," Caroline admitted once she joined him in the basement again.

"Of course you can," Klaus encouraged. "You're strong. You were an athlete correct?"

"Well, yeah. A cheerleader. But I have, like, no upper body strength and I'm small."

"Your upper body is fine," Klaus leered, earning him a punch in the arm. "That wasn't bad. So first things first-how to throw a proper punch."

Klaus showed her how to fold her fist and avoid breaking something—other than a potential attacker's nose—in attempt to defend herself. He took into account her skill level, her height and weight, and also her likeliness to panic at a crucial moment.

"You can run Caroline," he told her. "All you have to do is hurt them enough to distract them and then run like hell."

For over an hour, Klaus had her throwing punches and kicks at the bag, watching her form closely. He smiled when she really started to get into it, hoping that it was Damon Salvatore's face she was picturing as she landed her hits.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today," he announced when he was satisfied. He handed her a bottle of water he had fetched from upstairs while she had been practicing.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" Caroline asked, taking a sip of water.

"Elijah sent me to boxing lessons when I was a teenager, after I got sent home from school for fighting," he replied.

"Elijah sent you?" Klaus nodded, picking up his towel again. "Not your parents?"

"No," Klaus answered. "I believe they were in Greece at the time."

His shoulders were tensed, though his tone was flippant. The sharing of personal information was uncomfortable for him but she wanted to keep him talking. "So, you got in trouble for fighting at school and your older brother sent you to a place where you'd learn to fight better. Seems like a great plan." She shot him a wry smile, trying to keep the mood light.

She knew it was working when she saw Klaus smirk. "You're the psychologist, love. Try again."

"I'm not a psychologist." Klaus countered the statement with an arch look. He was inviting her psycho analysis for a change. He wasn't good at letting people in or offering up information about himself. It seemed to work best when she told him about himself, then he would confirm or deny her conclusions in his special way. "Elijah noticed your anger issues and he tried to help you find a way to channel your emotions elsewhere. Did it work?"

"I made good use of the skills I acquired," Klaus replied. "I wasn't the largest boy in school, but I was the smartest. And rather boastful."

Caroline feigned a shocked expression. "You? Boastful? I can't imagine."

"It seemed that any time I tried to correct my peers, they were usually just hearing 'punch me in the face.'"

"Well, that's the subtext I hear in everything you say," Caroline laughed.

Klaus returned her chuckle, reaching up and brushing a stray, damp curl from her forehead. The laughter came to an abrupt stop. She was still breathless from their workout, her skin moist and flushed but all Caroline could feel was the place where Klaus's fingers brushed against the skin of her head.

She cleared her throat and Klaus snatched his hand back, stepping away. Caroline brushed at her head, trying to wipe away the feeling of heat that was spreading from that spot on her temple all the way down to her toes.

"I thought it might be prudent for you to know how to defend yourself in the future," he said, keeping his back to her as he began wiping down the bag.

"Well thank you," she replied. "For your concern."

A few moments passed. Caroline stood there, fiddling with the water bottle, watching as he pulled the bag down from the chain it was attached to and store it away. He grabbed a t-shirt that was slung over the side of a chair and pulled it over his head.

"Now may be a good time to tell you that I have a proposition for you."

Her eyebrows flicked up. "A proposition?"

"Yes." They walked upstairs, and Caroline immediately appreciated how much cooler it was than down in the basement. Not to mention, spacious. "I've noticed that you seem to have a skill for deduction."

"I do?"

"You have a brain in that pretty head of yours, Caroline. You shouldn't waste it. I propose that you stay on, and allow me to train you in my methods of deductive reasoning."

Caroline let out a slight laugh, somewhere between shocked and anxious. "Klaus, I—"

"I know what you're going to say," he continued. "But I'm sure we can continue to see that you're compensated. We'll make up something about my ailing mental health or sobriety to tell Elijah."

"I'm not going to lie to your brother to get money from him."

"Why not? I've done it for years."

"Klaus," she said to him, ignoring the smile and light in his eyes. "I've seen this happen before. As much as you fought me in the beginning, you're worried now that you won't be able to continue to cope on your own."

"Don't be ridiculous," Klaus retorted. "This is a professional opportunity."

"Or is it an excuse to keep me around?"

"Caroline," Klaus tilted his head, looking up at her. "I think you have talent. I think you are smart and capable and have amazing potential. I don't think you should waste it. Consider my offer."

* * *

.

"He wants me to stay," Caroline told Lexi the next day. "As like an apprentice or something."

They were browsing through dresses. Lexi was attending a wedding the following weekend with her boyfriend and needed to find something to wear. Caroline had volunteered to tag along and offer her fashion opinions.

"An apprentice?" Lexi asked, picking up a pink, strapless dress and examining it.

"Yeah, he wants to train me to be a detective, he thinks I have potential." She circled around the opposite side of the rack, flipping absently through the clothes. "But there's no way I can stay. It's completely out of the question. I can't, "she rambled, shaking her head rapidly.

"Oh my god," Lexi gaped, dropping the dress in her hand back on the rack with a resounding metallic clink and focusing all of her attention on Caroline.

"What?"

"You're _totally_ thinking about it."

"No I'm not," she protested. Lexi opened her mouth to argue but Caroline's phone beeped with a text message from Klaus. "I've gotta go."

Lexi arched a judgmental brow and let out a sigh. "Alright, but we're talking about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about," Caroline said, hating that her only girlfriend was someone who could see through her denial in a heartbeat. Sometimes it didn't pay to be friends with fellow psych students. "Don't get a pink dress. So not your color."

Lexi wrinkled her nose, but smiled and told her goodbye.

Caroline walked through the door of 221B and saw Klaus in the living room, pining new papers to his board around the fireplace. It was some of the files delivered from the day before.

"Hey," she greeted, setting her purse down on the chaise across from the organized chaos. "I got your text. What's up?"

"I have some reading for you," Klaus said handing her a file of papers. "From the files that were messengered over yesterday. I knew you would have questions, but these will explain better than I can. Or am willing."

His fingers lingered at the edge of the file, as if he wanted to change his mind and snatch it back.

"Okay…" Caroline took the folder from him.

"Please." His tone made her pause. She looked up at him and noticed the serious wrinkles around his eyes, and the way they seemed more gray than blue. Nerves lined the corners of his mouth and furrowed his brow. His shoulders held the same amount of tension they had when he had been discussing his childhood and Elijah with her the day before. "Wait until I'm out before you open them. I actually have an errand to run now."

He walked over to his desk and grabbed his phone and keys, slipping them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"An errand? What errand? Where are you going?"

"I realize that for the remainder of your time here as a sober companion that I'm still required to check in with you and tell you of my whereabouts, however that will not continue once you are no longer here as an employee, " he said, it as if he were confident that she would accept his offer.

"So in the spirit of the part of that where I am still your sober companion," Caroline said, "where are you going?"

"Special detective work," he replied, the quip falling just a little short. "Investigating a pawn shop on the South side. I should be back in an hour or two."

"Okay, we'll be careful."

Klaus's eyes flicked down to the manila folder and back up to her, apprehension written all over his face. He nodded and then stepped past her, heading out the front door.

She listened to it click shut and walked over to the blue easy chair in the corner, taking the file with her. Something in the way he looked at her as he left told her that this file didn't have to do with their case. Klaus was letting her see something very important, very personal. It was a bridge between them and he was letting her cross it. He now trusted her to know whatever theinformation was in this file. Her fingers reeled with anticipation was she slipped one under the fold of the envelope and pulled it open. A stack of papers slid out into her hands, heavy with secrets. Caroline flipped through each one quickly, seeing copies of newspaper articles, photographs, and transcripts of interviews. Her mouth fell open as she realized what Klaus had given her, the weight of it settling into her hands and mind as she settled back and began reading each paper one by one.

It was a case file from Scotland Yard. And it was all about the disappearance and murder of Rebekah Mikaelson.

* * *

.

Klaus didn't usually choose to take the train. The "tube" it was called in London. Here it was known as "The El". He normally preferred cabs, though the cabs in the States were abysmal compared to those in England.

However, depending on the time of day, the train could offer a good place to sit quietly and think, letting one's brain get lost in the overwhelming noise of machinery and the clacking of the tracks. As long as it wasn't rush hour or there weren't bums peddling for spare change, spouting what ever made up pull-at-your-heart-strings story they could think of to sucker people out of their money, it was easy and comfortable to lose oneself in the anonymity provided on a train ride.

The car was quiet, except for the sound of pop music mumbling from the headphones of a teenager sitting by the doors. The bell dinged and the door slid shut, the train shifting into motion. Klaus dropped into single seat facing forward and stared out the window at the passing buildings, letting his thoughts wander.

He'd gone back and forth since the day before, as to whether or not he should let Caroline see the file. It contained secrets he'd rather have locked away. His past was a weakness, he had learned from it and moved on, even though Caroline had always insisted that he confront his demons rather than act like they didn't exist. He hoped she wouldn't have questions, but he knew she would. If she was going to be a detective, questions were important, and being unafraid to ask them were equally as important. He decided to focus on the potential training aspects the file could provide, rather than the personal information it contained.

They had maintained a professional relationship together. She was an employee and he was her client and the line would not be crossed, even if their professional relationship developed into something a little different.

Staving off the nerves about her reaction, he let his mind go back to what he had been thinking of before Caroline had gotten home. The case. The club murders. All of the girls killed. There was too much coincidence and not enough connection. He was missing a piece of the puzzle. That was why he had asked for the files, to revisit the beginning and see what he might have overlooked previously. He was starting with the corner pieces and working his way into the center.

There was Conner, in the top right, with The Artist killings—hired to headhunt but not actually committing any of the murders himself. Someone else had been doing that. Someone else had been pulling the puppet strings and had cut them before the puppet could speak. In the top left corner was Expression. Its connection was weak, but Klaus still hadn't discounted it yet. The pieces he had in that corner weren't many but they were there.

In the corner just below were the recent murders. All the girls that had been killed: Rachel and Hayley and the others. All connecting and all too familiar, connecting with the fourth corner: the past. The precedents already set that couldn't be ignored, as much as he wanted to. It was why he had given Caroline the file. She would need to know. There was absolutely no way of avoiding it. Rebekah was something he could no longer keep buried.

.

.

_Music thrummed, shaking the walls and light flashed in time with the beat. Green, red, purple, red, green. Klaus hated these places. He didn't understand the people in them, writhing up against each other in some perfunctory mating ritual. He could read article after article and study after study written by psychologists and anthropologists alike but there wasn't a study known to man that could make him understand lust._

_He himself had never felt it. Not the passionate form that those around him seemed to be experiencing. The kind of attraction that came from too much drinking or showing too much skin. His sexual partners were never chosen at random and were always selected with the utmost consideration. These fools stumbled against one another, locking lips and limbs like the world would end the next day._

_ A man knocked into him and Klaus spun, his eyes daring the offender to cross him again, hands twitch beside his jeans. But the man took one look at him-up and down-and backed away with an apology. Klaus went back to scanning the crowd, finding what he was looking for and stalking in the direction of his target._

_ His hand wrapped around the arm of a leggy blonde, in a too tight white dress and gave her a good yank._

_ "What the hell?" she screeched over the music._

_ "Rebekah, sweetheart, it's time to go."_

_ "Nik," she sneered. "What the hell are you doing here?"_

_ Her suitor stopped dancing behind her, coming up close. "Rebekah, who is this guy?"_

_ If Klaus eschewed lust and passion in all of its forms, his sister more than made up for the deficit he created. She insisted on throwing herself at every man who showed her the least bit of attention. Klaus had had to bail her out of more than one uncomfortable situation when it came to Rebekah's boyfriends yet she continued to throw herself at the opposite sex at any chance offered._

_ "Alex, this is my brother, Klaus."_

_ Rebekah's male of choice was tall and broad, with bronze skin and long dark hair. Klaus knew who he was already. Rebekah had been seeing him for almost a month. "Your brother?"_

_ "Rebekah you shouldn't be here," Klaus growled over the music, ignoring the man._

_ "Nik I'm perfectly fine," she retorted. "I'm with Alex and his friend. No one is going to murder me."_

_ "It's time to go," he repeated._

_ "Perhaps we can settle this with a drink?" Alex suggested, tilting his head toward the bar._

_ The three of them walked toward one of the tables, hidden in the darkness with nothing but a candle to illuminate their faces. Alex sat down, followed by Rebekah. Klaus remained standing, still on edge as Rebekah glowered at him._

_ "Rebekah, you know it isn't safe to be here."_

_ "Oh stop with your paranoia," she spat._

"_What are you talking about?" Alex asked, confused by the conversation. Klaus narrowed his eyes at the arm Alex had slung around his sister._

_ "My brother is a consulting detective," she explained. "On his better days…he's been investigating that serial killer who's been murdering girls in night clubs."_

_ "And perhaps if you really cared for my sister, you wouldn't bring her to a place where she could be harmed." Klaus reached for her again but she yanked her arm away._

_ "You're not my boyfriend, Nik."_

_ "No, I'm your brother, which means you have to do as I say."_

_ She opened her mouth, set to fire off another rebuttal, but they were interrupted._

_ "There you love birds are," a blonde man said as he joined them, looking directly at Alex and Rebekah. He swayed a bit on his feet, his eyes sliding over to Klaus as he noticed his presence. "Who's our new friend?"_

_ "This is Rebekah's brother," Alex answered. "Klaus."_

_ The man smiled, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet ya, name's Galen Vaughn."_

* * *

_._

Caroline read the files on Klaus's board, in addition to the one he had given her on Rebekah. All of the information was about girls who had been murdered back in London, all of them in nightclubs just like the girls in Chicago. Another case of serial murders that had never been solved. They had eventually stopped. Police thought maybe the killer had been part of a gang and had been killed. They never understood why the killing had just stopped.

Rebekah's murder had taken place around the same time as the London murders. The police had grouped her in with those murders but had ultimately ruled her out of the group, even though her killer had never been found. The evidence and manner in which she was killed and disposed of was not consistent with the other cases. Rebekah's body had been dumped, to hide and buy time for her killer to escape notice. The others had been left behind, with intent to be found.

They had questioned her boyfriend, Alexander, who had an airtight alibi it seemed provided by his friend, a man named Galen Vaughn. They had also questioned Klaus, but Elijah had provided answers to his whereabouts that night. After almost two months, the police had given up looking for her killer.

Caroline had been so caught up in her reading and her own thoughts she hadn't heard Klaus come home. He leaned against the doorway to the living room, watching her study his board. She tentatively reached forward to move something and he stepped in.

"Careful, love. Might want to reconsider moving things."

Caroline spun around, her hand flying to her chest. "You scared me. I didn't even hear you come in."

"You read the file?"

She nodded. "And the others. You think it's the same killer?"

He let out a sigh of relief at her response. It was exactly what he had hoped for. "No," he answered.

"A copycat?"

"No."

"Then what? Or who?"

"I'm not quite certain," Klaus admitted, stepping forward. "There's something missing to connect it all."

"Well, I might have something." Caroline left him and ran up the stairs, returning a short while later with an old looking journal in her hand. "Professor Shane gave this to me in class the other day. I've read most of it." He took it and opened it up. "It's his Expression research." Klaus flipped through the pages, looking at the notes and symbols. "Some of his writing gets a little sloppy sometimes but here…I was thinking of this one part…" Caroline stepped closer and looked over his shoulder at the book, flipping through and trying to find a particular spot.

Klaus noticed an underlined heading. "Ritual sacrifices?" he read.

"From what I've been reading," Caroline said, "Expression is all about being noticed. There's no point unless people are watching, which is why serial killers are drawn to it. They like audiences, trophies, drama…but they're so secretive that they have to have codes. They do these sacrifices to distinguish themselves from other killings."

"Twelve killings," Klaus said, reading further.

"Twelve of each," Caroline corrected. There was a triangle drawn in the center of the page, each point labeled "The vagrant, the virgin, and the victorious. Vagrant is obvious…and virgin is too. _Incorrect_ but obvious. Victorious I don't get."

Klaus licked his lips thoughtfully. "There were 11 deaths before the college girls started dropping dead…"

"Twelve if you count Conner…"

"So that would be the vagrants," he tapped the bottom left of the triangle and then moved his finger to the right. "There have been three college girls killed. The virgins."

"Like I said…not accurate. But times change, and these are centuries old rituals. I guess he changed that part a little."

"Nine more deaths before this part of the triangle is complete," Klaus mused. "In previous centuries, it wouldn't have been much of a challenge to commit these murders, one could kill as much as they needed without fear of being caught before the development of forensics. Not to mention our every waking moment being documented, killing twelve people is a much larger number."

"Not if he found a way to kill a bunch of them all at once," Caroline suggested. "There's nothing that says they have to be individual murders."

Klaus looked over at Caroline. "How would he be able to gather half a dozen girls, drop their guards, and murder them all without anything going wrong?"

* * *

_Across town__**….**_

_**.**_

"You didn't."

"Oh, I did."

"We are going to get in so much trouble."

"It'll be worth it."

"Becky…"

"Alex, calm down, it's your birthday. And the universe is on our side. All of the RA's are off tonight and the security system is broken, so no one will even know we snuck a stripper into our hall."

The two girls giggled together, their friends dancing around to music and enjoying Rum cocktails and jello shots.

"I can't believe you got a stripper," Alex laughed.

"I told you I would!" Becky said with a proud smile.

"You're insane!"

There was a knock at the door and one of the other girls opened it, letting their guest of honor inside. "Good evening ladies," he greeted with a smile.

"Not much of a costume," Becky muttered to Alex, appraising down his vest, t-shirt, and jeans.

Alex nudged her in the rib. "That accent though! Besides, we want his clothes _off_, right?"

The blonde man stepped into the room. "Where's the birthday girl?"

Alex raised her hand and the man smiled, stepping toward her and giving her a flirty knock under her chin. "Please to meet ya, darling. You can call me, Vaughn."

* * *

**The two OC's at the end of the fic are based on my wonderful writing pals, Becky (a-little-blonde-distraction) and Alex (klarolineepiclove). I love them to bits and they are talented ladies who inspire me and make me laugh, so I figured I'd pay them back by writing them in and killing them ;)**

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter...and Caroline's inappropriate Klaus thoughts ;) AND the flashback.**

**Bonus points if you spot my Sherlock reference!**

**Until next time...**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


	14. Everybody Must Get Stoned

**HEY GUESS WHAT?!**

**This fic has been nominated in the Klaroline Awards on Tumblr for best Crime/Mystery/Thriller fiction! If you want to show some love and vote for it, you can head over to klarolineawards. tumblr .com and vote for it or any other stories that you love. You don't have to be a tumblr user to vote in the awards.**

**Anyways, hope you like this chapter. I have a feeling that you will.**

**p.s. sorry about the confusion with the names last chapter (Becky and Alex at the end) I realized belatedly that they are very close to Rebekah and Alexander. My bad. Normally I would think of different names for OC's but these were my two friends that I was throwing into the fic just for laughs. :)**

* * *

.

"Half a dozen girls. How does someone kill half a dozen girls all at once?" Alaric shook his head, the pain of his job creasing his eyes.

"I haven't gotten a look at the crime scene yet, but I have a few theories, perhaps…"

Caroline nudged Klaus in the rib and gave a small shake of her head when he shot her a questioning look. Alaric didn't mean "how" as in, "how was it done", he meant it as "how could a human being do such a thing"_._ There was a tightness in the captain's scruffy jaw that said he was both surprised and saddened to find he could still see thing that shocked him, even after so many years on the job.

The captain had called them late that morning after being called to the scene about an hour before. They were at another dorm room, this time back in the Loop. One of the RA's had called the police after she got a complaint about one of her room's blaring loud music at eight o'clock in the morning. She entered after knocking a few times and no one answered, only to walk in and find six corpses.

"The killer-or someone- set the stereo to go off at a certain time so the bodies would be found fresh," Alaric said as he lifted the yellow tape. Caroline took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was beyond the door.

It wasn't the gruesome mess she expected. The girls all looked peaceful, like they were taking naps. Some of them were on the bed, their bodies slumped over, and others were on the floor. If Caroline didn't know she was on a crime scene, she would have thought that she just walked into a room full of passed out girls, tired from an up-all-night slumber party.

Klaus went right in, stony and unaffected as ever, and began examining one of the bodies. "No wounds, doesn't look like there are any signs of fighting," he remarked. He walked over to another girl and picked up her arm. "Bruising on her bicep, but it's more than a few days old and not consistent with signs of assault. Possibly from being hit with a softball." He scanned the other dead girls. "Have your coroner order a toxicology report. I'm sure it will come back with signs of poisoning."

"I thought you said there were seven girls here," Caroline said to Alaric. "There are only six, er, bodies."

Klaus looked at the captain, awaiting his answer.

"The seventh girl was found alive, I guess whatever he gave them, her body rejected," Alaric explained. "She's been taken back to the precinct for questioning, but she's suffered a fair amount of trauma, so we're waiting a bit before we try to talk to her. Her parents are coming up from St. Charles."

"I could talk to her," Caroline offered. She missed Klaus's small grin as he continued to examine the room.

"Thanks for the offer Caroline," Alaric replied, "but I'll be taking point on this one."

"Actually," Klaus interjected, rounding his attention back to the two of them. "Caroline has come up with a theory about this killer."

Caroline looked at Klaus, her brow furrowing. He gave her an encouraging smile as Alaric looked at her, waiting for her to explain.

"Um, well," Caroline began. "I've been doing some research and it seems like all the murders that have been happening are based on ritualistic killings."

"Ritualistic killings?"

"Yeah," she replied. It was difficult to explain to Alaric how the theory held up when he wasn't in on the whole Silas and Expression thing. "I was just doing some class stuff and found out about this old secret society that commits mass murders for fun."

"What like Charles Manson and Helter Skelter?"

"Sort of. There has to be a dozen murders of each type of person to complete each part of the ritual."

"Type of person?"

"Yeah. Society doesn't really exist on castes or classes anymore, but whoever is at the forefront of all this is having others fulfill each section of the ritual."

Alaric gave her a humoring look. She wasn't explaining herself very well and she knew it. "Caroline," he placed a hand on her shoulder, but promptly removed it when Klaus made a throat clearing noise behind him. "Caroline, I appreciate the theory, but I'm not much of a believer in conspiracies. It sounds a little out there to me. I think you're just seeing connections that aren't there."

Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but Alaric's attention was called away.

Klaus stepped toward her. "Don't worry, love. The captain has never been very good at thinking outside the box."

After they finished up at the crime scene, they went back to the precinct to observe Alaric questioning the girl who survived. Her name was Greta. She was nineteen years old, with dark skin and long curly hair, that was tied half up, behind her head. Her cheeks were tear stained and her nails were bitten to the quick.

Caroline watched from the girl from the opposite side of the two way glass. Greta sat in the interrogation room alone, staring at nothing on the table in front of her. The girl's eyes moved from side to side and Caroline could see her playing out what happened the night before in her mind.

She touched the glass with her hand, attempting to empower the girl from afar. Even though she didn't know her, didn't have any idea of what she had seen or experienced, and couldn't even begin to fathom how she felt, Caroline wanted to offer her some sort of strength.

Klaus entered the room with two coffees in his hand—the good stuff from the shop across the street, not the crappy sludge from the station's coffee maker. Caroline removed her hand and stepped away from the window. Klaus observed the quelled look in her eyes.

"Everything alright?" He passed her the beverage and Caroline took it, giving him a half smile. She looked back at the lonely girl over her shoulder.

"I want her to be okay," Caroline said. "She doesn't have to be a victim."

Klaus tilted his head to the side, sitting back against the table. She looked down at her coffee cup, her fidgeting with her fingers. He recognized this move. It was a habit of hers. She did it when she had more to say, but was working up the courage to say it.

He remained quiet and waited for her to continue.

After a few moments she began speaking again. "When my dad was murdered, they didn't think they were going to catch the killers. It was so random and they had nothing to go on. After I shook myself out of everything I was down at the station every day, trying to get them to look further into it," she paused, taking a drunk. "For a while they humored me, but I knew I started annoying them with my constant phone calls and suggestions about how to find the guys who killed him."

Caroline remembered how sympathetic smiles had turned into exasperated sighs as the county police tried to tell her they didn't have the kind of resources to investigate like she wanted. After exhausting their patience, she had taken matters into her own hands.

"I started staking out the gas station where he was killed, convinced the killers would come back. There hadn't been any security footage, just the eye witness testimony of the attendant that had been working that night. I sat outside in my car every night watching for anyone who fit the description of the two guys."

She remembered spending night after night across the street on her stakeouts. Her mother had worried, and for a while she had been able to lie and say she was with her boyfriend. But then Matt had broken up with her. He didn't understand her grief and obsession and need for justice. He'd tried hard, but in the end Caroline had become something he didn't recognize. She wasn't the simple, bright, peppy girl he had fallen for during high school. Parts of her had become dark and complicated and there was no turning back.

At first she had hated him for abandoning her, but in the end she understood.

"It was pure luck that they came back one night. I called the cops, lying and reporting an attempted robbery in progress. The police showed up and eventually arrested them. The attendant was able to identity them and after further investigation they were convicted."

"Well," Klaus said. "It was fortunate you weren't thrown in jail with them, for misleading the police with a phony call."

Caroline let out a small laugh. "Having a sheriff for a mother can help get you out of a few things."

Alaric walked into the interrogation room then and the two of them turned their attention toward the two-way glass.

The girl sat up a bit straighter and Caroline saw a mask of determination fall over her features. _Good_, she thought. _Be a fighter._

"Hello, Greta," Alaric said, his voice gentle. He sat a mug of water in front of her. "I was hoping I could ask you some questions."

The girl nodded, wiping her face. "Sure."

"Let's start at the beginning," he said. "What happened last night?"

Greta looked down for a moment, nodding her head and Caroline caught herself mimicking the motion. She looked back up and began speaking. "It was my friend, Alex's, birthday. We all got together for a party. Just some drinks and stuff. Becky told us she had gotten Alex a stripper—just as a joke. She always does—did—crazy stuff like that. He showed up and everything was normal. He put on music, and danced around. Alex stopped him from taking his clothes off though, she was too embarrassed. He stayed to have a drink with us, taught us some games, told jokes...it was fun. And then a little while later we noticed Becky passed out in the corner. She wasn't breathing and we all started freaking out. Then Alex just dropped on the spot. And then Leah and then—"her voice caught, the horror catching up with her. She let out a sob. "He watched it happen. He was smiling and at that moment I knew he had done something. I sat down on the bed and waited to fall asleep too. I prayed that no one was dead. I hoped that maybe he was just going to rob us and then leave. Not murder us or…" she trailed off at that moment and Caroline caught the implication, a shiver running down her spine.

Greta's eyes had gone back to staring at the nothing on the table. Her mouth hung open and her emotionless mask had dropped away as she had begun to relive the events. Her dark eyes snapped up at Alaric, filled with water.

"Why did I live? Why just me?"

It was another one of those questions that wasn't meant literally.

Alaric let a few moments pass before leaning toward her. "Can you tell us anything about the man?"

Greta blinked a few times, refocusing, trying to be brave. "He was blonde, sort of had a beard and an accent."

"What kind of accent?"

"Um, Scottish or Irish? I'm not sure of the difference."

Alaric nodded. "Anything else? Height? Weight?"

"He was a little taller than me I think. And built. Like, he works out," Greta said, disgust playing on her face. "And he said his name was Vaughn."

Caroline heard Klaus move behind her, coming up to the window.

"Vaughn?" Alaric asked.

"Yeah," Greta affirmed. "When he walked in, he told us to call him Vaughn. I don't know if that's his first name or last name or even his real name in the first place."

Caroline looked over at Klaus, seeing his expression pinched in thought. "What is it?"

Klaus shook his head. "Nothing," he replied.

Alaric thanked Greta, and passed on his sympathies, ensuring her that she could stay at the station if she chose until her parents arrived from Missouri. He joined Klaus and Caroline in the other room.

"So we have description," Alaric said. "And possibly a name. I'll run it through the system and see if I get any hits."

"Is it possible he was from the strip club they hired?" Caroline posed.

"I doubt it," Alaric said. "I'm guessing that whoever they did hire originally didn't make it that night. It's worth looking into. Maybe it will put us on a trail."

"Good idea," Klaus said, joining the conversation. He had been absent for most of it, his thoughts residing miles away. "Captain you should take Caroline along with you."

"Take me along?" Caroline asked at the same time Alaric said. "To a strip club?"

"It will be good experience," Klaus replied. "Caroline will soon begin formal training, it would be a good learning experience to observe your work. And would also acclimate her to the less than desirable atmospheres detective work often requires one to venture into." Before Caroline or Alaric could protest again, Klaus continued. "I'm going to check in with the tox screenings. Perhaps the poison could also help link us to this Vaughn's whereabouts."

He spun away from them quickly and slipped out the door.

Caroline looked over at Alaric and shrugged her shoulders. "Might as well be useful. I guess I'll tag along."

Alaric dug up the information for the strip club and he and Caroline headed out to the address in Alaric's unmarked cruiser.

"So Klaus wants to train you to be a PI?" Alaric asked as they pulled into the traffic on Lake Shore Drive.

"Yeah, he offered to train me after our recovery work is finished," Caroline replied. "Though I haven't accepted, which he seems to have forgotten."

"When do you finish up with him?"

"Two weeks from tomorrow," Caroline replied. "He said I have some potential or something. I don't know."

"So, you'll be moving out of his place in a couple weeks?"

"Yep."

Alaric switched hands on the wheel. "Will you keep in touch?"

"I don't usually keep in touch with my clients," she told him. "They have my number in case they need to contact me, but I try to encourage them to continue on there own and seek help from a sponsor if they feel like they need it."

"Sounds to me like he doesn't want to let you go and it's just an excuse to keep you around." Caroline shifted in her seat. It was the second time someone had suggested ulterior motives for Klaus's offer. "I mean don't get me wrong, you definitely have the smarts for consulting, I've seen you on the job. But it sounds like he's doing that guy thing."

"What guy thing?"

"That thing that guys do when they don't want to admit any feelings, but don't want to let go of a girl, so we'll make excuses to keep her around," Alaric grinned. "I used to do that with my ex-wife, before we were married. I'd help her build furniture or like fix stuff around her place that didn't really need fixing…"

Caroline looked at him. "You were married?"

"Yeah, for a couple years," he told her. "Isobel and I met in college. But it didn't work out. Long hours and being career obsessed didn't play well into a marriage. She left me."

"I'm sorry," Caroline said.

"It was awhile ago," Alaric replied.

Caroline looked out at the lake. Navy Pier was in the distance, the giant ferris wheel spinning in the sky, overlooking Lake Michigan. She'd always wanted to go up in it, to see the city from that view, but her fear of heights had kept her feet on the ground.

"I think Klaus likes you or fancies you. Whatever it is those British guys say."

She pulled her gaze from the ferris wheel and looked over at Alaric, shaking her head. "It's not that," she told him. "I see this all the time. Recovering addicts get nervous that they can't cope without their sober companion and they try to invent reasons for us to stick around. I promise, that's all it is."

She said the words, and believed them, but there was a tiny part of her that wished she didn't.

They arrived outside the club and Alaric parallel parked in a spot right in front. The street was empty except for a few cars. A neon sign flashed "Sinzation" over the door. Even though it was daytime, it was still easy to see the change from pink to green as the bulbs switched back and forth. Alaric made a face as they approached at the door.

"What's that look for?" Caroline asked.

"It's day time," Alaric said. "Trust me, you never want to be at a strip club when the "C" squad is on stage."

Caroline arched a brow. "Spend a lot of time in strip clubs?"

Alaric laughed and they entered the bar.

It was a dank place. Every inch of the floor, walls, and bar was painted black with splashes of neon paint and glitter. There were a few patrons at the tables surrounding the stage. They were all men. Caroline tried to keep the judgement off of her face, thinking about what type of man spent his days in a strip club. Not that she ever understood the appeal, but bachelor parties or birthday jokes was an understandable indulgence. Monday afternoons were just plain sad and gross. A girl swung around a pole, topless, as throbbing techno music played over the speakers. Her neon thong rode up her ass so far, that Caroline thought it completely negated the purpose of underwear in the first place.

She followed Alaric over to the bar as he got the attention of the skinny man behind it. He turned around and passed a look from Alaric over to her, sizing them up.

"Couples nights are on Wednesdays," he said turning back around.

"My name's Alaric Saltzman," he announced pulling out his badge. "I'm with the Chicago Police Department. I need to talk to the manager or owner of the club. Whoever's around."

Skinny turned back and looked at the badge, pulling at the collar of his too large button up shirt. "Owner and manager are the same person," he sniffed. "Downstairs in his office. I'll grab him."

"You do that," Alaric replied and took a seat at one of the bar stools.

Caroline tried very hard not to look at the stage. Not that there was anything she wanted to see happening there, but it was surprisingly hard to remain nonchalant when there was a naked women dancing less that fifteen feet away.

She looked past the stage and spotted a sign that indicated the direction of the restrooms. "Think it's safe to use the bathroom?"

Alaric followed her gaze. "Well in a place like this, I'd say that women's room is a safer bet than the men's."

Caroline made a disgusted face and headed toward the sign, deciding to take her chances. She wondered how Klaus was doing. He'd been acting a little strange the past few days, especially earlier after Greta's questioning. He'd been sneaking out and even though she didn't see any signs that he might be up to something regarding his recovery, there was something definitely off about his behavior.

She finished doing her business and washed her hands in the sink, letting the hot water and soap kill any germs she might have picked up from being in the club.

Her thoughts went back to her conversation with Alaric in the car. Maybe she _should_ consider keeping in touch with Klaus after their time together was over. He was a special case. He didn't have the familial support system that her past clients had been able to turn to. Not to mention his massive trust issues and ego. He seemed to trust her though. Maybe she needed to continue to be there for him in some capacity even when she was no longer being paid.

She flung the water off her hands and grabbed a couple paper towels, using one to grab the door handle as she exited.

Alaric was at the bar still, now talking to the man she assumed was the owner.

Someone stepped into view and she looked up to see a man leering at her. He was much older than she was, his teeth yellowed from years of smoking. It was possible that he had just stepped out of a Miami Vice rerun.

"Hey," he said to her. "When are you going on stage?"

Caroline scoffed. "I'm not."

She tried to sidestep him, but he matched her move, still standing in her way.

"Can I talk you into a private dance then?"

"I'm not a stripper," Caroline snapped. "Now get out of my way."

"Don't be like that," he said wrapping a hand around her arm. "I'll make it worth your time." Caroline's senses flared. One of the moves Klaus had taught her came to mind. She grabbed his wrist to distract him and stomped down on his foot. Unfortunately, it didn't make him let go of her like it was supposed to.

She tried to yank away but the motion only pulled him closer, he knocked into her and she tripped backwards over a chair, falling into the wall. The man fell on top of her and they went crashing through a weak spot in the structure. Dust fell out of the broken drywall around them and Caroline coughed, breathing some of it into her lungs.

She heard footsteps rush over and her attacker was yanked away from her.

Alaric tossed the guy into a table and stood between the two of them. "Caroline, are you alright?"

She groaned at the pain in her back from falling. "Yeah," she sniffed again, a weird feeling settling over her. She looked up and noticed Alaric looking above her head, a shocked expression on his face. "What's the matter?" She followed his gaze above her head and looked up to see a decomposed body hanging out of the wall, over her head.

Caroline gasped and crawled away from it as fast as she could. She shot up next to Alaric and they both stared at the corpse. He turned to the owner, whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. The music coming from the stage at stopped and everyone in the bar had turned their attention to the developing drama.

A giggle burst from Caroline's lips. For some reason, she couldn't help it.

"What in the hell is that?" Alaric asked the owner.

The man, dressed in a cheap suit, a polo shirt under his jacket, raised his hands in defense. "I swear I don't know. I only bought this club three months ago."

Caroline continued to giggle, her snickers erupting into full-blown laughter. She didn't know why it was so funny. It was all so ridiculous. Alaric gave her a sidelong look, which made her laugh even harder.

"Caroline? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I feel good. Tingly but good. I'm fine. I'm totally good. I promise. Fine. Best ever."

"Uh-huh," Alaric said, his eyes dropping to her shoulder, where some of the dust had settled. It was blue in color, not white like drywall, and he brushed at some of it with his finger to get a closer look. He stepped toward the hole in the wall, holding his breath, and looked around the corpse, then turned back to her. "Caroline, I think I have some bad news for you?"

"Oh no!" She said, her hand flying to her mouth. "What is it?"

"This dust," he said holding up his finger. "I think it's meth."

"What?"

"Crystal meth, Caroline," he repeated. "You've just inhaled a bunch of Crystal Meth."

* * *

.

Klaus had done as he told Alaric and Caroline he would do; he met with the coroner for the autopsy reports and the toxicology screens. Just as he suspected, poison had done the work. The girl who had survived had been lucky. She had been on some type of anti-depressant that had inhibited the poison from taking full effect. However, she would need medical attention within the next few days to fully flush it out of her system.

Her luck was his luck. Because now Klaus knew who he was looking for. He knew the puzzle piece that was missing before. A strange sense of irony filled him. He never thought he would be offered the chance to finish the task he had set about two years ago. He had told himself, when his demons had begun to consume him, that he would put his thoughts of justice behind him.

But now opportunity was knocking a second time and he wouldn't miss answering the door.

He kicked a stone and it bounced across the floor of the abandoned train car he was currently standing in, the rock clanging to a stop against the steel wall. He could hear the ghostly echoes of screams resonating in the small space. They would soon be replaced by fresh sounds of pain and fear.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he made his way outside into the sunlight again, before answering it.

"Captain Saltzman, how was the trip to the club?" Klaus stepped through the train yard, tall brown grass brushing at his jeans. The late afternoon sun beat down on his head as it started it's journey into the west.

"Dead end," Alaric answered. "They don't let their employees out for private parties, but he remembers a girl who looks like one of the victims coming by the club last week and asking about hiring someone. I'm guessing maybe this Vaughn guy overheard and seized the opportunity."

"I suppose so," Klaus replied. It didn't matter if their questioning had lead to a dead end. It served to distract the Captain and Caroline for a few hours. Klaus heard something in the background and Alaric let out a long sigh.

"There's something else," he said.

Klaus made it to the road and began walking back to catch a cab. "What is it?"

"Well our trip may have opened up another investigation," he explained. "Caroline, uh—stumbled on a corpse rotting inside one of the walls. It looked old and mummified, possibly."

"Interesting," Klaus replied. "Well done."

"That's not all. The corpse was covered in crystal meth. When the wall busted up, Caroline got caught up in the dust and inhaled a bunch of it."

Klaus's eyes narrowed as he reached the main street again, holding out his hand for a cab. "What exactly are you saying, Captain?"

"I'm saying...she's high as a kite."

A car stopped in front of Klaus and he opened the door. "I'm on my way. Fifteen minutes."

Klaus hung up the phone and told the cabbie to get to the station downtown as fast as he could. "I'll give you three hundred dollars if you can make it in less than ten minutes."

In spite of the rush hour traffic, he made it in nine and a half.

Klaus wasn't sure what he expected to see when he walked into the precinct. He grabbed one of the desk officers and asked where Alaric's whereabouts, hoping he hadn't just left Caroline somewhere. The young man jerked his thumb in the direction of the Captain's office.

"In there with meth girl," he said. "She was bugging the shit out of us, running all over the office so he finally locked her in there."

Klaus ignored the commentary and opened the door. He saw Caroline bouncing on her heels, mouth going a mile a minute, and Alaric sitting behind his desk looking very tired. Her eyes became large, white circles as he stepped into the room.

"You called him?" She screeched. "I told you not to! You can't call him. He's in recovery! He can't be around high people!"

Every sentence went up at the end, hitting an octave that Klaus was sure only dogs could hear.

Klaus ignored her protests, shooting Alaric a look that said he did the right thing and dragged her out of the office to take her home. Klaus rolled his eyes as the officers around them flinched out of their way. They dealt with gang bangers and harden criminals on a daily basis with nary a blink, but they were unhinged by the exuberant ramblings of a high, blonde girl.

She complained out loud-the whole way home-about Alaric not listening to her and how no one ever listened to her and then rounded back to her experience at the strip club and a lot of other gibberish that Klaus couldn't understand or connect.

They walked through the front door and Klaus couldn't take it any longer. Laughter burst from his lips as she continued to ramble on and on. Caroline rounded on him and fixed him with a glare.

"Klaus! This isn't funny!"

He continued to laugh. "I know, it's not."

"Then stop laughing," she ordered. He raised a hand to his mouth, making a show of at least trying to stop his laughter, but an amused smile still stretched across his face.

Her emotions quickly shifted gears again, and she insisted that she could do more cartwheels than he could. Even though Klaus had no intention in taking that bet, Caroline still felt the need to drag him to the back yard and prove her point. He watched her kick off her shoes and tumble in the grass, laughing like a kid the entire time.

Even though it was the effects of the drugs, he enjoy something about seeing her completely uninhibited, laughing and playing like she hadn't a care in the world. It was infectious, even to him. After the sixth cartwheel, he called out to her. "Careful, love. Wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

"Nonsense!" She shouted back, making a poor attempt to mimic his accent. "I can do anything!"

Definitely the drugs.

She dove forward and her hands hit the grass, but her legs wobbled, not following the direction she intended. Her feet went straight into the air and she dropped like a rock to the ground.

Klaus darted toward her, but his alarm faded as she laughed between groans, doubling into herself and grasping her stomach. She wasn't seriously hurt.

"Ow," she mumbled.

"Alright, cartwheel queen," Klaus said offering her his hands to help her up. "I think you've had enough."

Caroline took his hands and let him lift her, pouting as she rose. She stood in front of him, a bit unstable on her feet. "Ugh, I'm starting to feel a little…" she couldn't describe it. She had been feeling so great for a while, but now she was starting to feel...not. That was the only way she could think to describe it. Before she was, and now she wasn't.

"That would be the come down," Klaus explained stepping toward her. "Why don't you head upstairs, sweetheart. I'll bring you something that will make you feel better."

Caroline nodded and let him lead her to the house. She headed upstairs and Klaus made a detour to the kitchen. He ventured up to her a few moments later with some water and half a sandwich.

She was tucked into her bed, and had managed to change into something more comfortable, the clothes she had been wearing that day tossed into a pile on the floor.

She looked up at him as he entered and he watched her from the doorway. "Please don't fire me for getting high," she said, her tiny eyes looking up at him.

"You really think I would do that?" He asked.

"Yes," she said. "Maybe, just to get rid of me."

Klaus chuckled and walked over to her bed, offering her the sandwich and water. She shook her head. "I'm not hungry or thirsty."

"You will be," he said. "Trust me. At least drink the water."

She acquiesced, sitting up a bit, and drained the glass. It seemed she was thirsty after all. She set it down on the floor next to her and Klaus reached for it—intending to refill it again—but she caught his hand as he stood.

He looked down at it and met her eyes.

"Sit with me?"

He could hardly say no.

Klaus settled himself down on the bed next to her, setting the glass back on the floor. The room was growing dark, the natural light outside fading as the sun began to set.

"I can't believe I got high on meth," she said, looking up at the ceiling.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Klaus told her. "It isn't as if you _chose_ to take any drugs."

"I don't even like taking Advil! I haven't been drunk since high school," she groaned. "Why do people do drugs if it hurts so much in the end?"

Klaus chuckled. "It's not the after effects, it's how one feels during. The benefits of the high outweigh the consequences."

Caroline's eyes flicked to his face, a small V forming between her brows. "We shouldn't be discussing this," she said, realizing it could trigger him. "You shouldn't have come to pick me up."

"What should I have done? Left you at the station to spend the night on a chair in Alaric's office?"

"It's not good for you to be around someone on drugs," she insisted. "It's detrimental to your recovery."

A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. "Caroline, you should let someone take care of you for a change."

"I can't," she said, her voice so small and low that he barely heard her. "Because what if they're gone one day? Then what will I do?"

Again, it was the drugs talking. Despondency and depression, it was all part of the downward slope of the high. But the shine in her eyes told Klaus that there was some truth behind her words. Maybe not truth that she bothered to acknowledge or admit to herself all that often, but a reflection of her real feelings none-the-less.

"I tried to use one of the moves you taught me," she said perking up a bit. "Earlier, at the club."

"I know. Alaric told me."

"It didn't work, though."

She sat up then, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Her body still felt restless, fighting the urge to leave the good feelings behind and succumb to rest.

"I suppose we'll have to practice a bit more then," Klaus suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Thanks for teaching me. Did you teach Rebekah the self defense stuff before?"

"No," he answered. "Perhaps if I had—"

"No!" she near yelled the word, latching onto his arm. "Don't do that."

He looked down at her grip on his bicep and then back up at her fierce blue eyes as she let go. Her pupils were still dilated. He watched her press her lips together.

"Why aren't you like this all the time?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Nice. Real. Not throwing up all these walls and pretenses."

Klaus arched a brow. "Well, why aren't you? Outside, a while ago, I saw a girl who seemed more natural and more alive than the one I've spent the past four weeks getting to know."

"That wasn't real," she said looking down at her lap. "That was the drugs."

Klaus slid his a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face so she met his eyes again. His thumb brushed the skin under her lip, sending a warm feeling straight to her stomach.

"It wasn't all an illusion," he said, his tone dipping low. "I've seen glimpses of you."

"And I've seen glimpses of _you_," she echoed.

She swallowed, feeling the sensation of his hand still under her chin. Her eyes studied him, tracing over the frame of his brow, the turn of his jaw, the gray-blue of his eyes and stopping on his full lips, slightly parted.

Klaus watched her eyes glide over his face and willed himself not to move, locked into the bind of her stare.

And then she kissed him.

He had always thought he possessed rather ample reflexes—thanks to his fight training and deductive skills. During his lessons he had learn to watch people and know how to anticipate their moves, a twist of a shoulder or an incline of the head—no matter how slight—might give away someone's intentions.

But Caroline he never saw coming.

Her lips pulled at his, and her small hand wrapped around his wrist, his hand still under her face. Her lips were soft, not urging, just sweet and innocent and a thousand things he wasn't and could never be. Her fingers trailed down from his wrist to his forearm, sending chills through his veins, and he noticed her eyes were closed.

The combination of factors collided together in his mind and warning bells sounded in his head. He pulled away from her, gently using his free hand to push her back and hold her away.

Klaus looked up to see her lips still pursed into a tempting pout from kissing him.

"Caroline," he said, then stopped himself. Not trusting his voice. Not trusting that the words to come out of his mouth would be what he meant or what he was thinking. His eyes flicked to the empty glass. "I'll get you some more water."

He stood quickly and left the room, not realizing that he had forgotten the glass until he made it to the kitchen. He gripped the edges of the counter, his fingers curling and his nails pressing into the steel sink.

After a few deep breaths he managed to silence the turmoil within himself and pulled down another glass from the open cabinet, filling it with water from the tap.

"She'll forget," he told himself. "In the morning she won't remember."

And he wished, with everything in his being, that it would be true.

When he got back he found her fast asleep in her bed.

Cautiously he stepped into her room, not daring to wake her. He crouched near her bed, setting the full glass down. It made a little thunk noise as it touched the wood floor. Caroline didn't stir though. She was long gone.

"Please," Klaus whispered. "Please don't do this to me, Caroline."

* * *

.

**So finally a kiss! I know you guys have been hoping for SOMETHING with the two of them and I hope this was worth the wait. I gave myself feels with it *brushes fingernails on shoulder* ;)**

**p.s. the whole meth/corpse in the wall thing is a little plot device I pulled from the show Bones, which I used to love back in the day. (Any other fans out there?) I usually don't like to use overdone tropes (like one person has to get drunk or something in order for their guard to drop) but I realized that these two are so effing stubborn that the only way they'd ever lock lips is if they were forced into a situation where they'd be acting a little odd...**

**Thanks to my betas klausykins and a-little-blonde-distraction, who are also nominated for Klaroline Awards! Show them some love too :)**

**follow me on tumblr at hybridlovelies**


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